The Band Dude
by sartietingles
Summary: Andre Vallier didn't realise what he signed up for when he joined the McKinley Jazz Band. These New Directions kids were crazy... and he was about to start seeing a lot more of them.
1. First Impressions

**Chapter 1: First Impressions**

_**Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome, lovely readers!**_

_**I've always loved the Glee Band Dudes (I lost my shit when the bass player got a line in A Very Glee Christmas) and I thought it was high time there were more fics about them.**_

_**So here it is! I hope you enjoy.**_

* * *

I sat in the far corner of McKinley's choir room in between the tenor sax and the 2nd trumpet. The bass player and band leader, Dean, was rolling his eyes as the New Directions kids were once again getting over-emotional about something. It was confusing, and one of them stormed out while another one of them, ignoring all the yelling, went up and started introducing a song. Then someone threw a shoe at her.

"What's going on?" I whispered, somewhat terrified, to Lisa, the tenor sax player. She was tiny, and the tenor sax was way too big for her. Her dream was to play baritone sax which was even bigger than the tenor, but that wasn't going to happen. She probably wouldn't be able to lift it without knocking herself out and – as entertaining as that would be – Lisa was nice, and probably more pleasant company while she was conscious.

Lisa shrugged and smiled at me reassuringly. "I lose track, Andre. Just get ready to play whenever they make some vague gesture to us."

I let out a hollow laugh. This sounded difficult. And these Glee kids seemed kind of… um… "bat-shit crazy" would probably be the most accurate term.

"Don't be nervous, you'll be fine," Dean mouthed to me. At least I think that's what he mouthed... I've never been that good at lip reading. He saw how confused I looked and gave me the thumbs-up, which was much easier to understand.

I still felt nervous though. This was one of the first times I'd played in front of people, and they'd put me on lead trumpet. It was a slow number from _Les Mis_ so it wasn't hard, and my part was echoed in the trombone anyway so it really wasn't a problem. And anyway I knew that I could-

Lisa stamped on my foot, interrupting my train of thought. The music had started. Wow they _were_ really vague with their cues. I took a deep breath and put my trumpet to my lips.

I concentrated throughout the first verse, terrified that I would royally screw up, but after that I let my mind wander. It was a fairly straightforward trumpet line any way. I watched the singer. Rachel, I think she was called (I was just going by what one of the cheerleaders screamed at her... although she could also be called 'Yentl' or 'Hobbit' if I followed that logic). _She's very good,_ I thought, _like amazingly good. Dare I say it – better than the original Broadway cast? Oh I certainly do dare say it, she is fantastic. _I looked at the rest of the Glee Club. They didn't seem too impressed with Rachel. _Wow, they must have high standards. Or maybe she's a horrible person off stage... Hard to tell. Though that would explain the yelling._

Another chorus swelled up and died down, and it was time for the band break. We nailed it. Hells yeah! The glee kids didn't notice of course. _Typical singers. Never notice the band._

Or did they?

The song ended and a group of glee kids who were sitting closer to me were murmuring and pointing in my direction. I could just make out what they were saying.

"Oooh! Ch-check out the y-yummy new band kid!" said one of them.

Flattered, I pokerfaced so they wouldn't realise I could hear them_._

"You're right Tina!" laughed the girl next to her. "Damn he sure is fine. What do you think Kurt?"

"I'm sorry ladies," he said, in a surprisingly high voice for someone called 'Kurt'. "He's on my team."

"You can't know that," said the girl who wasn't Tina dismissively.

"He's wearing a bow-tie, Mercedes."

"S-s-straight guys wear bow ties too!" Tina objected.

_Are they fighting over my… sexuality?_

"Not yellow polka-dot ones," said Kurt.

"Yes, they-" Mercedes began.

"Over purple pin striped shirts," Kurt continued.

"Maybe he-"

"With matching yellow polka dot suspenders."

"But-"

"And with-" Kurt tried to continue describing my clothes (which I must say was slightly embarrassing).

"WE GET IT KURT," Tina cried, evidently louder than she had intended as she gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth straight afterwards.

I looked over at them and they immediately assumed the 'deer caught in headlights' position. After a sufficiently awkward stare off I turned back to the band.

There I found Lisa laughing into her saxophone. She'd heard the whole thing too. "You've got Glee kids after you!" she whispered between silent bouts of laughter.

"What's wrong with that?" I said somewhat defensively.

"Everything," said Dean. He heard it too? _Damn these musicians and their good ears..._

I didn't see how everything was wrong with it... Tina and Mercedes were both really, _really_ pretty (it was kind of hard to be discreet and not stare at them) and Kurt too was no less than _fine_. I proceeded to check out the entire club. It very suddenly hit me that there was way too much sexy in the club than should be able to fit in this room. I suddenly became concerned about the structural integrity of the walls - fearing the sexy could burst them at any moment. And, getting back to what Dean had said (or rather, what I thought about what Dean had said), it wasn't that I thought their appearances determined whether everything was wrong with them. It was just that in high school something like that goes a long way – so I was surprised such attractive people seemed so hated. Anyway, before all the screaming there was a lot of hugging, so they seemed like nice people. Also, Mercedes was wearing a Beatles T-Shirt, which immediately put her in my good books. I just couldn't see how the others thought I should instantly dislike them (apart from the fact that they were singers who didn't appreciate a good jazz band when they saw one).

"Thanks guys," said the Glee club teacher, Mr Shue, to the jazz band. He was one of the first teachers I met when I'd started at McKinley on Monday. Unfortunately he spent the nearly whole time we were in the same room having abuse yelled at him through a megaphone by the cheerleading coach, Sue. Still, he seemed nice. "Let's have a hand for the McKinley Jazz band!"

There was a sparse echo of half-hearted and uninterested claps (_like I said, singers are horrible people)_, while Artie – a kid in a wheelchair who I had been told was AMAZING at guitar – cheering like a lunatic (_obviously, he's the exception to the rule_). I decided right then that he was cool. He came to some of the Jazz Band rehearsals, Dean had told me. I'd only been to one at this stage so I hadn't met him yet, but I think I was looking forward to it.

The Jazz Band started packing up and the Glee Kids went back to their dramas now that performance time was over. A second shoe was thrown at Rachel and two guys in football jerseys started break dancing like bosses. Tina, Kurt and Mercedes had their heads together, and were giggling loudly. They saw me looking up at them and stared for a few seconds. I gave them a wink and an eyebrow wiggle then followed Dean out of the choir room. As soon as I got out I heard one of them (probably one of the girls... but I won't rule out Kurt) shriek "DO YOU THINK HE HEARD US?" in a hysterical high pitch, and another one of them yelling at the others to shut up.

The Jazz Band thought all this was hilarious, and Lisa dropped her tenor sax on my foot from laughing. It hurt, but it felt good to finally have some real friends. And maybe some new ones on the way...

McKinley sure was going to be interesting.


	2. The New Guy

_**Hey there! Thanks so much for reading. Apologies for the slow updates. I kind of suck like that. Anyway, let's get on with this shenanigan!**_

_**But first, I'd like to take a moment to congratulate the lovely and oh-so deserving Chris Colfer on his Golden Globe! I cried all the proud mama tears.**_

* * *

I got called "New Guy" four times that day. Some times were more welcome than others.

_Monday mornings should be illegal,_ I thought as I dragged myself out of bed. I hit the snooze button on my alarm furiously, as if it had done me a deep personal wrong. Which it had. I groaned and rolled off my bed onto the floor.

Eventually, (after some skilled commando crawling) I made it to the bathroom. I stared into my pale green eyes. On some days they seemed more blue than green, and on other days they were almost yellow. Today they were just sort of in-between. Eh. My dark hair was curling all over the place, as usual. Eh. I decided, however, that I'd make sure today wasn't an 'eh' day. I'd been assuming the role of 'New Kid', and hopefully after a whole week the New Kid stigma had died down and I didn't have to be awkward-nervous-quiet-non-threatening-neutral-please-everyone-new-guy anymore. Hopefully, anyway.

I was greeted with great enthusiasm by the rest of the McKinley band when I arrived in the auditorium in the morning to drop off my trumpet. It was like they were surprised to see me back...

"Hi guys..." I said, bemused (to put it lightly), receiving a bear hug from the band leader Dean. "You're not like this every day are you...? I mean, I do love the attention don't get me wrong but I think you-" I shook Dean off "–might break me if you do that to me again anytime soon."

"No," Dean laughed, his hands still on my shoulders, beaming like a proud father. "We're just glad you came back. Most people quit after they find out we play with the Glee club."

"Oh," I said, not entirely surprised. "Why?"

"No one likes the Glee kids," Lisa, the tenor sax player, explained.

"I must declare my ut_most_ disregard for that assessment," came an irritated voice from the doorway. I recognised the owner of the voice as Artie, the occasional jazz band member and Glee kid.

Lisa laughed. "I'm just speaking in general terms. We all love _you_ Artie."

"That's what I'm talking 'bout," Artie grinned, wheeling himself in. He stopped short when he saw me. "Ah! New guy?" _Damn it, I'm still the New Guy. _Artie dumped his guitar down among the other instruments, and introduced himself with an extended hand. "I'm Artie."

"I'm Andre," I said, going in for a handshake but then Artie pulled me into one of the handshake-man-hugs. _NOOOOO! _I'm bad at those at the best of times, let alone when the other person is waist-high. I got through it, nonetheless, without seriously injuring either of us. I doubted Artie wanted another serious injury.

A look of amused comprehension appeared on Artie's face after hearing my name. "I think you met my friends."

A quiet rumble of simultaneous laughter came from the rest of the band. _Not cool guys._

"I wouldn't say _met_..."

"It was the story of the weekend," Artie chuckled. "I was only a few metres away; I'm surprised I missed it."

I gave an awkward laugh. A voice in my head screamed at me to stop being The Awkward New Guy, but I couldn't help it. _If people treat me like a new guy, I'll act like a new guy._ This was of course going to lead me into a doomish paradox of doomy New-Guy-doom, but it was the best I could come up with at that stage.

"So what do you play?" Artie asked me.

"Trumpet," I said.

"Cool," Artie said. "We should jam something. Know any Miles Davis?"

I was offended. "I'm offended," I said, offended. "Of course I do!"

Artie laughed, and we talked until the bell rang. It turned out he too harboured a love for the Beatles that could only be called religious.

"We should _definitely_ jam someday," Artie smiled.

_My new-best-friend sense is tingling. _"Hells yeah!" I nearly yelled. Then, grinning, I gave Artie a ridiculously loud (and painful) high five and ran out of the auditorium, blowing kisses to everyone. "Farewell, shiny jazz people!" I yelled, feeling like I'd broken off the first chink in my new guy armour.

* * *

My first class was English. I didn't really know where to sit as this was one of the few classes I didn't have with Dean or Lisa or someone else from the jazz band. I recognised Tina, the cute goth girl from the glee club, but when she saw me she blushed and retreated further into the wall she was leaning on, as if trying to escape through it. I wandered to the back of the room, sat down at an empty table, and, as the teacher was running late, got out the music that Dean had given us for the week (it seemed like a more fun alternative to actually participating in class). _Defying Gravity _from Wicked was the song we were doing with the glee club. It stood out as it had the most boring trumpet line amongst all the other pieces. I hadn't heard it before, but Dean said it was a rare occasion that we would actually get music this far in advance for New Directions so we'd actually be able to rehearse it. Mr Schue must have been planning this for ages. Dean also said that we'd probably get more songs from them later on in the week. He then corrected himself saying we'd probably get more songs from them within minutes of having to perform them. I didn't mind. Sounded like a challenge.

I had my nose in about 30 pieces of music and all was well until a distraction soon came in the form of two football players. One was huge, with very cute kind of small boy quality to him. The other was less tall - shorter than me - with a mohawk and a smug expression. They both stood in front of me, staring at me quizzically.

"Can I help you?" I asked after a brief moment.

They nodded to each other and rushed to take the two empty seats on either side of me.

"New Guy," said the one with the mohawk. "Sup?"

"Not much," I said. "I'm Andre."

"Puck," he said, "and this is my boy, Finn."

His boy Finn waved largely. Everything he did seemed to be large. "Hi," he said small-ly, disproving my theory. I supposed he wasn't a wordy guy.

"Hey."

And that was where the conversation stopped short. _Awkward._

The teacher arrived soon after that, erasing any need for us to make small talk, which was good because Puck and his boy didn't seem capable of doing so and I sure as hell wasn't keen either. She was going on about the cultural significance of something and waving the text we were studying around emphatically. I wasn't interested, so I went through my part to _Defying Gravity_. It involved a whole lot of sitting around and not playing, and then when I did play it was just some cliché shock notes. Classic boring Broadway trumpet part. Dean had also given me the score to the vocal part for rehearsal purposes. It was fine for me on trumpet, but it looked like hell for whichever girl was singing it. Well, actually I had no idea as I didn't really know anything about singing (unless it was in the shower).

About 20 minutes later, at which stage I was playing air trumpet to myself to practice, I was interrupted by a light punch in the side. I looked up and Puck and Finn were once again staring at me.

"Can I help you?" I asked, again.

"Andre!" Finn exclaimed, pointing at me, reminding me once again of a child. It was sort of like that stage where they just learn to talk, and pointing at everything you can name is extremely exciting.

"Keep it down, Finn," the teacher up the front said.

"Andre Vallier?" Puck asked, in a hushed tone. "That's you, right?"

I nodded again.

"Coach Tenaka read your file. He said you were going to come and save the basketball team."

My insides twisted and I laughed nervously. "But it's not even basketball season yet!" _And why is the information in my file being broadcast to the football team?_

"He wanted us to get you on board as soon as possible," Finn grinned.

_What time is it? Back story time!_

See, at my old school I wasn't in the Jazz Band. I was a bit of a jock.

"A jock?" you ask. "But Andre! You are so shiny and jazzy!"

Why thank you! I am very shiny and jazzy. But I didn't used to be.

My story in less than 200 words is, basically, this: I had only one friend in elementary school, and we went to junior high together and decided to join the basketball team because we were both kind of tall and had nothing else to do. But then we both got kind of good, and then we had all these jock friends and I went to high school with them as 'the basketball dude'. So I became this cool guy... and I am not a cool guy by any stretch of the imagination. I just got trapped in this cool jock cage, full of ditzy girlfriends and stupid friends, and it took moving to Lima, Ohio of all places to get me out of that.

I was never really a jock at heart. I'd played trumpet since I was 7 years old and my favourite thing to do was write horn lines for Beatles songs or play Herbie Hancock songs until my lips were numb. But it was so much easier being what they told me to be than trying to figure out who I was… so I stuck with it.

It actually took a lot of self-control to avoid becoming a jock again. I felt like I was taking a risk being the jazz guy, because I'd never done it before. When I met with the school guidance counsellor on my first day, I asked for the sign-up sheets to "basketband" and "jazz-ball" (she now thinks I'm crazy). It'd been great being in the jazz band those last few days, but I was still trying to avoid any contact with any of the sports guys, for fear of going back to being a douchebag.

"So, are you in?" Puck asked, once my interior monologue had finished.

"Sorry, man. I can't," I mumbled, not looking at him. "That's not what I do anymore."

The bell rang, and Puck and Finn followed me out of class as I left hastily.

"What do you mean that's not what you do?" Puck asked. "You were the top shooter in your region _and_ you were a _freshman_!"

I reached my locker and the two of them stood beside me as I did my combination.

"It's just… not my thing," I shrugged. "I've got other dreams, you know?" I directed this last bit at Finn, who had had a vague look of understanding when I first declined.

He nodded to me. "I noticed you in the jazz band at last Glee rehearsal."

I gave Finn a grateful look for understanding. But Puck wasn't going to give up. "Our basketball team didn't win a game in all of last season. Don't you think you owe it to us to join?"

"I just got here. I don't owe anyone anything."

"Fine," Puck said. "But do you really wanna spend the next two years being a band geek? Bands geeks get beaten up. By me." He flexed his arm, as if to emphasise the pain one would feel getting a personal beat-up from him.

I shrugged. I _looked_ lanky, but I could fend for myself. You don't get to be the region's top scorer without getting a little muscle.

"If you join the basketball team, _you'll_ be the one beating up the band geeks. What else could you want?"

I slammed my locker dramatically. "Just leave me alone, OK?" I snapped. "I don't know you, or like you particularly, so I don't owe you shit. So I'm gonna stay in the jazz band, and you can wallow around in your testosterone in peace."

"Oh, it is _on_," Puck sneered from behind me.

"It's not on," Finn told him quietly, then called after me, "It's not on, Andre! Nothing's on!"

"IT'S SO ON!" Puck yelled.

Not turning around, I gave him the finger over my back, and slipped into French class.

I walked in and immediately recognised the guy from New Directions last Thursday sitting at the only table with seats left. I couldn't quite remember his name. _What was it again...? Oh yeah-_

"Kurt!" I thought, holding my index finger up in the 'idea' position. He immediately looked up, and, seeing me, looked horrified. _Oh your god,_ I thought, _I said that out loud._ I just stared at him, and he just stared back, turning steadily redder. I don't know why _I_ was embarrassed. Oh actually… it was probably because I had just yelled his name in a ridiculously happy voice. But that was only because I had thought it in my head in that tone! I even had that I-just-remembered-something-aren't-I-awesome face on. _Must. Repair. Awkward. Situation._ Though it felt like much longer only about 18 seconds had elapsed.

I sat down next to him.

"Hi," I smiled as pleasantly as I could. "It is Kurt, right?"

"Kurt Hummel," he smiled, shaking my hand. "And you're… new guy?"

"Andre Vallier," I said.

Kurt smiled again fleetingly then turned away, clearly embarrassed. His complexion had turned from its usual cool ivory to something similar to a beetroot. It didn't really suit him.

I didn't want to leave it like this. We could never be friends if it was this awkward, and for some reason I really wanted to be friends with this kid. The teacher was late, so there was ample time for awkward silence, and after a few moments I tried talking again.

"Nice hat," I tried. And it was. It was like a smaller version of a pirate hat… but sequined. _I want a shiny pirate hat…_ I found myself staring at his hat and missed his reply. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said thanks," he said, turning away again. He started adjusting his hat uncomfortably, as if I had offended him with my compliment.

"Where did you-"

"OH, HELL TO THE NO!" came a loud voice.

I looked up and saw Mercedes from the Glee Club standing in front of us. She had just walked in, and was glowering at Kurt.

"Kurt, you promised me and Tina that we'd all go talk to him _together_!"

"It's not my fault!" Kurt retorted. "_He_ approached _me_."

Mercedes' face softened, but then she looked quite disappointed. "So he _is_ on your team?"

"I don't know," Kurt said. "I still think so though." He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair thoughtfully, holding his right hand in the air and crossing his left across his chest.

I sat there, bemused, with my mouth open staring at the two of them. "You guys know I'm still here… right?"

Mercedes laughed. "Sorry."

I kept staring at her. She sat down next to me. I persisted with the staring, hoping it would prompt some sort of explanation.

"I'm Mercedes," she said, smiling sweetly. "I hope we haven't weirded you out too much. New people who don't hate on us straight away are kind of exciting."

_It certainly has weirded me out._ I thought. _But not too much… and if they're like this all the time life could be hilarious._ I smiled. "Not really," I said.

"Great," she said sweetly, smiling again. "I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name."

"Andre Vallier," I smiled, giving her a wink. I then decided that winking was my new thing.

"Sounds French," she said.

"That's why I'm taking French class," I grinned, shrugging. "My dad's French," I explained.

Kurt seemed impressed, and asked me if I spoke French at home. I told him only sometimes, when my mum was out. My mum's French is terrible (which is why my dad's English is so good).

"French is sexy," muttered Kurt and Mercedes together, in the same tone. They laughed at their having the same thought at the same time, and then they did this weird little finger wiggle thing and ran their fingers through their hair.

_I've got to come up with something like that with Artie… but first I have to tell him that he's my new best friend. And also meet him more than once. That would certainly help the process along._

The teacher came in (teachers are always so late at this school!) and stopped our conversation. She made me introduce myself in front of the class in French, which became a lot more difficult when Kurt and Mercedes were making faces at me from the back.

After class, we walked through the hall together.

"So," Mercedes said seriously when we got to my locker, "I have to ask you…" She looked at Kurt for support, and he gave a grave and solemn nod. "_Are_ you gay?"

I gaped at them in vague amusement, wondering if they were joking, and after some time they looked just as serious and a whole manner of insects may or may not have flown into my mouth. I tried to keep serious and utter a no-fuss no, but it just came out as a loud guffaw. Mercedes' deadly serious tone and concerned face, Kurt's look of grave hopefulness, the fact that Artie had wheeled himself up to us just as they said that, making the best what-the-shit-is-going-on-here-I-leave-you-two-alone-for-two-minutes-and-this-is-what-you-do-this-is-why-we-can't-have-nice-things face I've ever seen - I found it hilarious, however inappropriate that may have been. I burst out laughing, and couldn't be controlled. Artie laughed too, more at the unholy noises I was making than what was going on. My stomach hurt and I could hardly breathe. I had to lean on his chair for support.

Eventually my laughing was reduced to some infrequent chuckles, and Mercedes and Kurt looked at each other. "_Well?_" Mercedes said.

"No," I giggled. "I'm not."

Kurt was visibly disappointed, while Mercedes gave a triumphant fist-pump.

"I can't believe I'm friends with you guys," Artie said, shaking his head.

Tina joined us, but looked like she was about to walk away again when she saw me. She turned bright red and avoided eye contact. _What a cutie_.

"Guess what, Tina," Mercedes said excitedly.

"W-w-what?" Tina said, quietly, giving me a nervous glance.

"Two things. One: he doesn't hate us or think we're Gloosers-"

I gave her a confused look.

"Glee losers."

"Ah…"

"And two: he's straight!" Mercedes went in for a high five, which Tina meekly returned, sharing a why-are-we-friends-with-these-two look with Artie and giving me another nervous glance.

"You do the talking like I'm not here thing a lot, don't you?" I said to Mercedes.

"Oh yeah," Mercedes said.

"She does that to me too," Tina adds, smiling and just barely looking up at me. Her shyness was so endearing I just wanted to hug her.

"So… you're sure you're straight?" Kurt checked, looking embarrassed as soon as he'd said it.

"Yup," I said giving Tina a wink though it was completely irrelevant. Really I was just testing my winking skills. She turned bright red and muttered something about having to leave. _Winking 1, world 0. _She was stopped in her tracks by a giant wall in the shape of a jock. Or a giant jock in the shape of a wall. Difficult to say. She squeaked and went back to stand behind Mercedes. Said jock punched the locker in front of my face casing a loud bang.

"What do _you_ want, Karofsky?" Kurt asked, rolling his eyes. His nonchalance made me feel calmer.

"I'm not here for you today, Hummel," he said, not looking away from me. "I've got a special delivery for New Guy over here."

I looked over at Artie for some kind of support, but he was staring Karofsky, wide eyed and terrified, and didn't notice me. Before I could look back he had grabbed me and shoved me into the lockers. Pain seared through the back of my head. I felt kind of dizzy.

"You," Karofsky sneered, "Are way overdue for your New-Guy punch in the face. I can't believe you escaped me for a whole week."

"If I'm that overdue, I am really still a New Guy?" I asked politely. "You might have missed your chance on this once." I smiled cheerfully again and tried to pull away.

"Don't give me attitude!" he snarled, grabbing my shoulders and banging me against the locker again. "I know what you said to Puck."

I gave him a confused look.

"You think you're better than us. You think you _so creative_ being in the _jazz band_. Being on the team just isn't good enough for you," his voice became louder with rage. People were stopping and staring. "You think you're better than me!"

"_I don't even know who you are_!" I yelled back exasperatedly, giving him a shove. _What the shit is this guy's problem? _My head was throbbing.

"Well you're about to find out!" he snarled dramatically. I braced myself to block whatever he tried to pull with my ninja skills. Just kidding, he was probably gonna get me right in the face before I realised.

He made the beginnings of some violent movement and-

"Am I the only one here who thinks this is highly unnecessary?" Artie asked loudly, looking around at others. A few people nodded and murmured in agreement.

"SHUT UP, CRIPPLE!" Karofsky screamed, lunging at Artie.

_Oh no_. I grabbed Karofsky by the back of his shirt and slammed him into the lockers. I was taller than him (though he was as wide as three of me), and I looked down at him, our faces nearly touching.

"Do not touch him," I said very slowly. "And never-" I went in closer "-_ever_ call him that again."

Karofsky had a gleam of uncertainty in his eye. "You can't talk to me like that."

"I just did."

There was a faint 'oooh' from the crowd (or maybe just Kurt… it sounded a lot like Kurt). Oh well, I got an 'oooh', I was happy.

Karofsky looked around and smirked. "Welcome to McKinley, New Guy." He took advantage of my loosened grip on him, pushed me foreword and punched me hard in the stomach. I couldn't breathe. He punched me again in the stomach, yelling taunts, and a last time in the face. I still couldn't breathe. Everything was getting hazy. The last thing I remembered was a final blow to the head, and Tina's elaborate shoes next to me as I lay on the ground.


	3. Waking Up

**Evening, lovely readers! Thanks to the people who reviewed. You guys made my day!**

**Really hope you're liking this!**

* * *

I woke up on a small, uncomfortable bed and there were muttering sounds coming from somewhere near me. I opened my eyes, but closed them again at the burning light. As I became more conscious I realised that both my head and my stomach ached wildly. I had no idea where I was… and I began to think I had been abducted by aliens.

A blurry, shiny figure came over me. "He's awake!" it called to the others in a high voice.

A collection of creatures, one of them clearly too tall and large to be human, came and stood over me.

"Don't probe me!" I begged. "I just wanna get back to my own planet!"

The blurred creatures all laughed. This wasn't funny. This was extremely serious. I WAS GONNA GET MY ASS PROBED! I winced in pain and closed my eyes again at the light. The voices became distant and hazy. I opened my eyes again.

"Andre?" came a quiet voice I recognised.

I blinked in the light.

"Andre, are you awake yet?" the same voice said again.

The pain in my head came back and I moaned. My vision became clear and I saw Tina leaning over me. I exhaled; there were no aliens. "Tina," I smiled.

"Hello," she smiled back. Even when I was dazed and confused, she was beautiful. Or maybe the dazed and confused-ness enhanced that... I wasn't sure, but I _was_ sure of was that I was getting really dizzy.

"You have… nice shoes," I mumbled, my eyes closing again. That was all I could remember, Tina's shoes on the ground next to me. _Hang on_, I thought, _why was I on the ground?_ Then I remembered the fight. _That explains the pain in my head…_ Gingerly sitting myself up, I noticed there was no one else here. "Seemed like more voices last time…" I commented vaguely.

Tina nodded. "They had to go to Glee club. Mr. Schue wanted someone to stay with you though so I… volunteered," she blushed again. I had brief mental image of her wrestling Kurt out of the door so that she could be alone with me. It made me feel better. "They'll be back in 10 minutes… it was just a lunchtime meeting and lunch ends soon."

I smiled at her. "Cool." Then, further recalling _why _I had got myself into a fight, I asked, "Is Artie OK?"

"He's fine," Tina replied. "He said to say thanks if you didn't wake up before he got back."

I nodded and breathed in again. _That had better get me in the best friend books,_ I thought lamely. I looked around the room. "Where's the nurse?" The fact that it was just Tina and me was strange. We _were _in the nurse's office after all.

Tina shrugged. "It's her day off."

"Oh. Fail."

"Everything's fail at this school, you're gonna get used to it soon enough."

I laughed. A lot. Probably more than the funniness of the joke was worth…

"What time is it?" I asked, deflecting attention from my girlish giggling.

"It's about half an hour into lunch," she said. "You've only been out for 20 minutes."

"Damn," I said. "If it's under an hour it's not hardcore at all."

Tina giggled, "It's a little bit hardcore…"

I sighed, sitting up straighter, catching a distant glance of myself in the dark window next to the door. "Do I look OK?" I asked Tina, suddenly afraid I was missing my nose or something.

Tina nodded. "You've got a bit of a black eye, but you look great." _She thinks I look great! _Somewhere inside me, mini-Andre was doing a happy dance in a jelly bean field with rainbows and purple hippos in tutus and giraffes with really long neckties. Also, somewhere inside me, mini-Andre's mum was trying to fix her son's LSD problem.

The happy dance must have been showing on my face, because Tina became slightly embarrassed.

"I mean… n-n-not great," she blurted out, her stutter coming back as she moved to defense-mode. "Well you d-do look great but…" She trailed off.

I smiled at her, trying to ease her obvious discomfort. She gave a faint laugh and smiled back at me, and we held each others eyes for a small, quiet moment.

Then Kurt burst in.

_Damn it, Kurt._

"I CAN'T BELIEVE HER!" Kurt fumed to Mercedes, who stepped in after him. "I've wanted to sing Defying Gravity for _years_ and she just adds it to her list of solos. Mr Shue won't even let me _audition_! He just can't see past her. Does he even _know _there are other people in the Glee Club?"

Mercedes shook her head in disbelief. "I know! She's hogging _my_ spotlight too. I'm gonna cut that girl…"

"Violence is never the answer," Artie tutted, waving his finger.

"What if the question is 'what is never the answer'?" I asked from the bed.

Artie looked surprised that I was awake, then grinned at me and rolled over. "Then it's still not the answer, because violence is never the answer."

"You feelin' alright, Andre?" Mercedes asked, coming over as well.

"Fit as a fiddle."

"You might want to take it easy on the mascara," Kurt joked, gesturing at my eye.

I pouted at Tina. "You said it looked great?"

She grinned shyly. "It does."

Kurt and Mercedes exchanged smirks.

Artie ignored all this and rolled up next to me. "Thanks for doing that, man," he said. "But, I must warn you; if you're going to try to defend my honour _every time _someone says something to me, you're going to be in here every day."

That was a rather depressing statement.

I stared at him defiantly. "Well maybe if someone starts trying to defend your honour it'll happen less."

"You met only me this morning," Artie pointed out, a hint of irritation in his voice. He looked at me seriously. "Why do you care so much?"

I heard Kurt mutter something along the lines of 'man-crush' to Mercedes, who giggled and said, "You wish."

I shrugged. Hell, I didn't even know why I cared so much. Oh wait – yes I did. He was my future best friend. No one insults my best friend. I opened my mouth to reply, but a distraction came in the rather large shape of Finn.

"Oh hey," I said.

"Does he still think I'm gonna probe him?" Finn mumbled to Kurt, who jumped a little as Finn spoke to him, as if surprised to be directly addressed by him.

Kurt replied, "No, I think he's gotten over the alien thing." He then looked up at Finn, with a faint smile.

"Hey," Finn said, walking over to me slowly – still cautious. "I wanna apologise for what Karofsky did. You don't deserve it and I know it's probably not the best welcome to the school you could get."

I shrugged. "It's not your fault."

Finn smiled his little boy smile. "I just wanted you to know all the jocks aren't like that."

I side-eyed him. _Still trying to get me onto the basketball team, eh?_

Kurt snorted and looked up at Finn. "You mean all the jocks except _you_ aren't like that." There was a hint of adoration mixed in with his sarcastic tone. Tina shared a concerned look with Mercedes.

Finn laughed and mumbled some modest, diffusing comment. "Well, I've gotta go. Mr Schue said me being in glee won't stop him from failing me in Spanish…" Finn smiled awkwardly at everyone and turned to leave. "See you around, Andre."

"That reminds me," said Artie after Finn's large shape filed out the door. "Are we cool to just… stay here until school finishes? I've got P.E and that really isn't much fun for me."

"Sounds like a plan," I said. "If anyone comes in I can start hallucinating again."

So we sat around, talking and laughing, for something like two hours, occasionally swapping the role of moaning injured person as various teachers walked past. Kurt could seamlessly switch from bitching about Rachel to moaning "MY LEG! MY LEG!" It was quite a feat.

At one point I mentioned I liked Rachel's singing from what I had seen the other day, and Mercedes threatened to give me another black eye. Artie stayed kind of quiet, but Kurt had mentioned something about the Glee club not having enough money for a bus for him, so I guessed that was why.

After a while, the bell rang for the end of, and I waved them goodbye. I was auditioning for the brass band after school, and I didn't want to be late (or concussed, for that matter, but what can you do). Dean had told me the brass band had very high standards. It was run by Sue Sylvester and she could only have the best musicians accompanying her 'performers'. The jazz band was also run by her, but more indirectly. That is, she never showed up to anything except the staff photo. Dean said her reason was that she didn't want to catch 'pretentious' from any of us.

"Jazz musicians are the worst musicians of all," Dean had imitated Sue. "Making music up on the sport doesn't make you _special_ or _creative_, it just makes you lazy!"

She also made all jazz band members who she thought were unattractive sign a contract swearing to never date her Cheerios. She didn't make me sign one, which was simultaneously flattering and creepy…

The brass band auditions were in the basketball court, which was unsettling for me, but I swallowed my nerves and walked in. My steps echoed on the hard floor as I walked into the dead silent room. Sue was sitting right in the centre, on a slightly raised platform. It was intimidating, but I was determined.

"Andre Vallier?" she asked through a megaphone, checking her list.

I nodded.

"State your reasons for auditioning for the brass band. As I'm sure you're aware, it is social suicide. My mind boggles at the notion of an attractive young man such as yourself-"

Creepy.

"-wanting to rub shoulders with the metaphorical scum on the metaphorical shoe of the metaphorical world!" she spat as she spoke. I was glad we were so far apart in a large room. "Why just the other day I had the misfortune of accidentally touching one of these poor excuses for humans, and I have dry cleaned the clothes I was wearing at the time no less than 47 times. My skin still crawls to think of it." She finished then looked at me expectantly.

I stared blankly. "I'm sorry, what was the question?"

"Forgetfulness is a sign of weakness," she glowered. "I'll say this once more; _why _for the love of what you people call 'God' would you want to join the brass band?"

Dean had told me to compliment the Cheerios at any possible opportunity. I took one. "So that I can be a small part of the most important part of the school – the Cheerios. I think that –"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Sue said bluntly. "One thing you should know about Sue Sylvester: butt-kissing is frowned upon."

_Damn it, Dean._

"Now, why do you _actually_ want to join the brass band?"

"I thought it sounded cool," I muttered. "Obviously that's not a widely held opinion."

"Certainly not."

"Also, I need extra curriculars to get into the music course I want at college," I said. "I've only got one so far. There aren't many options for a trumpet player, and I think a brass band with a good reputation like ours would be a great thing to say I've been a part of."

Sue stared at me for a minute then raised her hands in exasperation. "I can't even begin to express the amount I don't care about your life, so I'm just gonna go ahead and leave." She began to get out of her chair.

I stared at her. "Shouldn't I play a song first?"

"I should be asking you the same thing," she cried, brandishing her megaphone at me. "What's with all the talking?"

"Sorry, coach," I said. And before she could leave again, I began to play part of Haydn's Trumpet Concerto. It was the only classical piece I knew well. When I was done, Sue picked up her megaphone again, and spoke very slowly and seriously.

"Mr Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart just rolled so far in his grave that people in Austria are fearing a zombie epidemic."

My heart sank. _And also, that wasn't by Mozart..._ "But-" I began desperately.

"We rehearse on Wednesdays. Don't be late."

And with that she left.

_Does that mean I got in? Oh yeah!_

* * *

The next morning I arrived at school early. I couldn't wait to tell Artie that I'd got in to the brass band. I found him near his locker, trying to reach some books he'd dropped on the ground.

"Hey, Artie!" I called happily, running over to him.

"Hey, Andre," he mumbled.

I bent down and grabbed his books off the floor and handed them to him.

He regarded them gravely before taking them. "Still got the black eye," he commented vaguely.

I laughed and shrugged. "It's my battle scar."

"Huh," Artie laughed hollowly then wheeled himself away.

_What did I say? _I followed after him. "Artie!" He kept going, not looking back. "Hey Artie! What's wrong, man?"

He turned around emphatically and scowled at me, saying nothing.

"Artie?" I asked again. "Artie, I thought we were friends."

"Why would someone like you want to be my friend?" Artie demanded quietly. "Why do you even care?"

I stared at him, taken aback. "Cos you're cool," I began hesitantly. I had no idea why he was so upset. Usually when people get this emotional, I either run or make a joke. Neither or those seemed like good ideas, so as uncomfortable as I was, I stayed there. "Cos you're the coolest person I've met at this school."

Artie scoffed. "You've had one conversation with me."

I chuckled. "It was a pretty good conversation."

Artie didn't laugh. _Ok, no more joking._

"What's this about, Artie?"

"You pity me," he said, not looking at me. "All people ever do is pity me."

"I don't pity you," I said earnestly. "I mean, I do but not like-"

"Yesterday you got into a fight for me because you pity me."

"No," I said defensively. "One: I was already in a fight, _you _were the one who tried to stop it and, two: it wasn't because I pity you, it's because I was sticking up for you. We're friends."

Artie ignored me. "This is going to happen a lot, and you're always gonna be the hero, and I'll always be the damsel in distress," he said, still not meeting my eyes. "If we do become friends, I'll never be able to help you in a situation like that. Even now, you look like a hero with your stupid black eye. I heard at least three girls comment about it this morning. Your _battle scar_. Is that why you want to be friends with me, to pick up chicks?"

_Don't make a joke, don't run away, don't make a joke, don't run away, _I pleaded with myself. I began to turn away (and run), but forced myself to step closer to him. This was important. I looked him in the eyes. "Artie, I'm really sorry about yesterday. But I wasn't doing it for me; I was doing it for you. I've been calling you my best friend in my head since I met you… I even worked out a handshake for us so we can be better best friends than Kurtcedes," I told him honestly with an embarrassed smile. I then continued seriously. "I just seriously thought you were really cool."

Artie finally looked up at me. He gave a faint smile. "Kurtcedes?"

"They're sometimes one person in my head…"

Artie laughed, and then sighed, looking utterly ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just… I'm just not used to people liking me, or even noticing me. I was suspicious and… and jealous. And I'm sorry."

I shrugged. "Don't be," I said. "I was probably a little creepy and forward anyway… But yeah, I totally understand."

"Really?" Artie asked.

"No," I laughed honestly, "But I'm trying."

He smiled and we headed down the corridor together, and I felt like I'd won a marathon. _I GOTS ME A BEST FRIEND_, I was shouting in my head.

"You're really cool, Andre," Artie said.

"I know."

Artie punched me in the arm.

Ow. _Damn him and his upper body strength._


	4. Defying Gravity

**Hello to all of you! I really don't have anything to say. Thanks for reading, though!**

* * *

"Are you alright?" I checked again. Kurt looked pale and shaken, but he nodded. "You're sure?"

He nodded again. Kurt was about to perform _Defying Gravity _for the 'diva-off' and he was nervous. Like really fucking nervous. He'd actually been quiet all day which shocked me. I'd only been friends with him for about a week, but I knew him being quiet meant something was seriously wrong.

"You can do this," I said earnestly. And I knew that he could. From what I'd heard from Artie, Kurt was really good. No high F was going to stop him.

Kurt just nodded again. None of the other New Directions kids had arrived yet, it was just the band setting up, and Kurt wanted to get there early to make sure we knew what we were doing.

"We _always_ know what we're doing," Dean scoffed.

"Really?" Kurt had seemed hopeful at this.

"Well no, not at all," Dean admitted, but I gave him a significant look. "But this time we do! We've had the music for more than 24 hours. That's a new record."

A bell rang, and any minute the others would all start pouring in. Kurt just got paler.

"C'mon, man," I said. "This isn't like you. Where's the diva?"

Kurt smiled. "Sorry," he said. "This is just… hard."

"Is something else up?"

Kurt nodded, but said nothing else so I didn't press the issue.

"Hey, Kurt," Mr. Schue greeted him as he walked in. "You ready for the big solo? This is your moment!"

Kurt gave a weak smile.

"Andre, c'mon, your stuff's not gonna set itself up," Dean urged, getting his music stand tangled up in his bass lead.

I nodded, and gave Kurt a bear hug. I didn't think Kurt was the touchy feely type, but screw it; I was. My hugs are the stuff of legend. Or, at least, that's what I liked to think. I can't do those high-five-man-hugs though… that is one skill that may forever evade me.

"You're going to break my spine," Kurt choked into my shoulder, laughing.

"You can borrow my chair if that happens," Artie drifted in, with a smirk on his face.

I'd noticed that both Artie and Kurt had very dark senses of humour about their situations. It made things kind of awkward sometimes, but I supposed it helped them cope. Yesterday, Kurt and I had been arguing about who got to have the last piece of a cake Mercedes had brought in. Kurt had won by saying that he was older than me and therefore deserved cake, and I had replied with the age old taunt of 'well you're older than me so you'll die first!', complete with childish tone and a stuck-out tongue. (Kurt was, in fact, only two months older than me, but the taunt still applied.)

He'd laughed hollowly at that and said with a dark smirk, "I'll probably be found dead beaten up in a dumpster in a few years, so yeah, I'm pretty sure I'll die first."

I had had no idea how to react, so I just stared at him.

To avoid these situations, I'd started making a mental list of things to never, _ever_ mention around them. It currently consisted of spines, death, and Tony Awards (but that was for a different reason… Mercedes and Kurt liked to compare their acceptance speeches whenever possible).

Anyway, I headed over to the jazz band so as to not have to react to Artie's joke. "I can't believe we have to play this _twice_," Lisa, the tenor sax player, moaned.

"It's not that bad," I said. "Well OK it is, in my part there are more bars rest than there are notes to play."

"The only person with an interesting part is that beardy piano guy…" Dean commented vaguely.

"Is he even a teacher here?" Ivan the drummer asked.

"I don't know… he seems to live in the choir room," Lisa muttered.

Said piano dude walked in and waved at us. We gave a wave back.

"I think I'm scared of him," Lisa said, ducking behind me.

"Oh come on," I said. "He's a harmless beardy piano guy."

Dean shushed us, and Rachel walked up to sing first. And, of course, she was amazing. She was so intense when she performed; it was almost a little scary. She wanted this nearly as badly as Kurt did. I sort of dozed off up until the chorus after the initial shock of Rachel's voice had sunk in, and I came in at the end. Killer trumpet part. I played a total of 8 notes. I added some grace-notes to make it slightly more interesting, which got an approving look from Dean. The next verse started again and I sat back. It was a short song, but Lisa was impatient. She had challenged me to a game of naughts and crosses on the back of the sheet music. I won (of course) and was halfway through my victory dance when we had to play again. Shock notes. Woo. Rachel nailed the high note (of course) and finished well. Kurt looked sick.

"Ok!" Mr. Schue said. "Well done Rachel, next in our diva-off is Kurt!"

I actually paid attention this time.

_Something has changed within me,_

_Something is not the same._

_I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game._

It could have just been because I was biased as Kurt was my friend, but it meant so much more when he was singing it. And Artie was right – he was _extremely_ good. I'd never heard a guy sing like that before. The performance was completely his own – just like Kurt was completely his own person. I kind of admired him for that, being so brave. I spent the better part of four years being too afraid to be myself, but Kurt just did it without question. I was sure it was hard for him. Hell I'd _seen_ how hard it was for him. He was mocked everywhere he went, every day, but that never changed him.

_It's time to trust my instincts, close my eyes and leap._

_It's time to try defying gravity._

_Kiss me goodbye I'm defying gravity,_

_And you won't bring me down._

_Ah Kurt, _I thought, _one day I'll be as confident as you._ He was pretty inspiring for me – not that I was struggling with anything major, just struggling the change in going from the top of the heap to the bottom of the heap, and the fact that it was my choice to do that. Now that I had control over who I was and wasn't being forced to be or do anything, it kind of scared me sometimes. I sort of felt like after pretending not to be me for so long, I didn't know who I was. I'd lost myself somewhere along the way.

He totally nailed the next verse, and the next chorus. At least I think he did, I was playing rather loudly. I got nervous for him when I knew the note was coming up. The chorus repeated. It was the last line and, _oh no_. He missed it. Rather badly. Poor Kurt.

I got up and left the jazz band to go congratulate him when the song ended. Dean looked appalled. For some reason he didn't like us drawing attention to ourselves during the glee rehearsals. I didn't care – I'd already crossed a line by sitting with Artie's friends at lunch every day instead of with the band, and they all didn't seem to mind at all. Dean had all these rules and etiquette about the jazz band, but often he was the only one that followed them.

I got to Kurt once he'd finished with everyone else. This glee club was so huggy! "Well done, man," I said, giving him an affectionate pat on the back. It was possibly a little too affectionate because he nearly fell over. With a huge grin, I added, "I had no idea you were that good. Why didn't you tell me you were that good?"

"Sorry," he laughed mockingly. "What was I supposed to say? 'Hi I'm Kurt Hummel and I'm amazing. It's nice to meet you'?"

"Oh yeah cos that's totally weirder than what you actually said. 'He's wearing a purple bow tie so he must be gay'," I laughed sarcastically. Kurt tried to scowl at me, but ended up grinning that great grin he did, where you could see his teeth and he sort of shone a bit. "But seriously, well done. You were amazing."

Kurt smirked at me and gave me a shove. "Thanks," he smiled.

Tina, who had just hugged Kurt, smiled at me as well. There was quite a crowd around us all, so I thought I could get away with giving her hand a squeeze without anyone noticing. She looked surprised, but smiled and squeezed back. I went back to the jazz band where I belonged and prepared to play more naughts-and-crosses with Lisa, with not so much butterflies but albatrosses in my stomach. I found myself staring at Tina whenever I had the chance, and spent the rest of the day with quite a grin on my face.

* * *

I'd been at McKinley for about four weeks now. Artie and I were completely best friends. We hung out every day at school and every weekend. He lived quite close to me so I could walk over to his house whenever I wanted and we'd have Halo marathons or jam sessions. It was at these jam sessions that he learnt that I could sing. Well - _I_ also learnt that I could sing. I mean, I knew I sounded good in the shower, but I didn't think anyone else would think it sounded good. Also, as a band guy, I'd rather not be classed as a singer. That was one of Dean's little rules that I happily accepted. I'd feel naked on stage without an instrument. Anyway, Artie'd been asking me to join the Glee club at every possible opportunity.

"No," I said, one day in the cafeteria. He'd got Kurt on board too, and it was just the three of us at lunch that day because the girls were off doing something else.

"Come on," Kurt said pleadingly, pouting. "For me?"

"No!" I said.

"For me?" Artie said, imitating Kurt's pout.

He was harder to say no to, but I still refused. "No fucking way."

Kurt looked offended. "Why not?" He pouted again.

"Because I'll get kicked out of the jazz band," I exaggerated. "And I already have to spend all of my free time learning the brass band songs and finding an audition piece for the orchestra."

"We have an orchestra?" Kurt asked.

I nodded. "They're amazing."

"Wow…"

"Kurt," Artie said seriously, "One day you're going to get out of your little diva-bubble, and realise that there's a whole world out there that you don't know about."

"Deep," Kurt said sarcastically. "One day you're going to get out of your little-nice-guy bubble and realise that I don't care."

"Ooooh!" I egged them on, glad that they'd dropped the topic of Glee club.

Kurt opened his mouth to continue, but my ringtone shut him up. Artie and I danced in our chairs to the Super Mario Theme, then I checked my phone and, even though I knew it was highly illogical as she was in the same building as me, I hoped it was Tina. We hadn't been alone since that time in the nurse's office, and we hadn't touched since the Diva-Off, and I wanted desperately to ask her out. Or at least, have her say something directly to me without being interrupted by Mercedes or Rachel (who sat with us sometimes, and was very loud).

_Oh shit._ It wasn't Tina. It was my ex, Miranda. She refused to believe that I'd broken up with her before I left my old school. I remember when I told her, she just laughed and said 'you're so funny!', then continued to act as if we were dating until I left. Now, she wouldn't stop calling me. I'd tried to break up with her numerous times (I even told her I was gay – among other desperate lies) but she had just laughed again. She was a cheerleader, gorgeous, looked kind of like the pregnant girl (but not pregnant) and was as ditzy as she was bitchy. I suppose she was a cross between the two top cheerleaders here, Brittany and Santana. She'd never been broken up with before, so she had seemed to assume it was impossible for someone to want to break up with her.

"Who is it?" Artie asked.

"Ugh," I mumbled, and I pressed the hang up button. I knew she'd ring again in 5 minutes, and I had to come up with an epic break up plan in that time. (My last attempt was 'zombies ate my face so I won't be able to kiss you anymore'. She didn't buy that… I wasn't really surprised, but I had been desperate.) "Ex-girlfriend won't stop calling me. She still thinks we're together."

"Been there," Kurt commented jokingly. I laughed, and then it hit me-

"Kurt!" I yelled excitedly.

"What?" he looked worried.

"My girlfriend refuses to break up with me no matter how often I try," I began.

"And?"

"And I tried telling her I was gay, and she thought that was hilarious and said I'm the straightest guy she knows."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. He and Artie knew all about my jock past now, but this still seemed to shock him.

"Yeah…" I said awkwardly. "She never saw my bow-tie collection. Or my Johnny Depp calendar…"

"Ah…" Kurt said understandingly. Artie laughed.

"Anyway," I continued. "I was thinking; you could pretend to be my boyfriend!"

Kurt and Artie's jaws hit the table.

"Nothing else will stop her," I pleaded. "And I need to stop her calling me so that I can…" I trailed off. I hadn't told them about how I felt for Tina, even though I'm pretty sure they both knew.

"Well," Kurt said, recovering from his initial shock. "I'm always pleased to tear an attractive guy away from a girl."

"Thanks, Kurt. I owe you one."

"What should I do?"

"She'll call again soon," I said. "I'll text her to make sure she video calls and then… I don't know. Act gay…?"

"Act?" Artie said incredulously.

"Shut up," laughed Kurt.

"OK, texting her now," I said. "Here we go." I felt a small pang of guilt at being this mean and lying to her, but I brushed it aside.

We waited a tense minute before she called. Artie and I shuffled around so that Kurt and I were next to each other, and then we heard it. Super Mario theme began.

I clicked the answer button and put her on loudspeaker.

"HI BABE!" came Miranda's voice. Both Artie and Kurt jumped at the sound of it. "It's so good to see you!"

"Don't call me babe," I said seriously. I knew I was being mean to her, but I'd broken up with her nicely 24 times, so it was time to get mean.

"You're so funny!" she cackled. "Anyway, how's it going, sexy?"

Artie mouthed the word 'sexy' at me from across the table before erupting into giggles.

"It's going pretty well," I said. "Just hanging in the cafeteria with my boyfriend."

There was a small pause before she laughed again. "Oh yeah," she said sarcastically, "Cos you're gay now. Right."

I ignored her. "Wanna say hi?"

"What?"

I handed the phone to Kurt, who had his head on my shoulder. "Are you the bitch who won't stop calling my boyfriend?" he snapped. _Oh Kurt_, I thought. _If there was ever a moment for your diva ways it's this one_.

"Be nice, honey," I said to Kurt, wrapping an arm around him.

Kurt beamed at me and we turned back to look at Miranda, who was staring open-mouthed at us.

"What the fuck, Andre?"

"What?" I asked. "I told you before. I broke up with you precisely 24 times for several reasons, including," I looked down at Kurt again and he smiled up at me, "this one."

She stopped looking offended and started looking dangerous. "Fine," she said. "I'm just going to have to tell all your friends about this now. Hope you like hate mail." She sneered and hung up.

I sat there, slightly in shock.

Kurt removed my arm from his shoulder. "Well that was fun," he laughed but then he saw my face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said. "I just…" I trailed off. I knew now that I'd burnt all the bridges and the lie I'd been living would end. My old jock friends would stop sending me messages promising to visit, and would just start sending me hate mail. I told this to Kurt and Artie, not knowing how I felt.

"Do you regret it?" asked Artie seriously.

I thought about it, then smiled. "Not at all." A small voice in my head screamed _FREEEEEEEDOOOOOOM!_

The celebration in my head was interrupted by a horrible, sudden freezing sensation, blasting me in the back of the head and slowly trickling down my neck.

I stood up and turned around. "The fuck?" I yelled.

It was Puck and Karofsky, both holding empty slushie cups. "Get a room, homos," Puck taunted.

Karofsky thought this was hilarious. "Yeah! A gay room!" he chimed in. They walked off, high fiving each other.

I gaped at them, still in utter shock. "What was that?" I asked Kurt, who was blue.

"They must have seen us before," Kurt said.

"Well," said Artie. "You're officially not a jock anymore. How does it feel?"

"Sticky."

Kurt groaned. "They ruined my new shirt!"

Tina and Mercedes came over, arm in arm giggling about something. They stopped short when they saw Kurt and I. Mercedes thought it was hilarious, while Tina went and got napkins and fussed over me. Kurt stalked off to the bathroom, muttering angrily to himself.

"I don't think the napkins are working," I said after a while, with one of them sticking to my cheek. She giggled and pulled it off, and my stomach did a backflip as she touched my face.

"I'll take you to the bathroom," she offered. I smiled and got up to follow her. I was slightly nervous about being alone with her, and afraid that we'd have nothing to say to each other. Whenever we hung out it was in class or with everyone else, and it was easier to talk to her when I had other people around. I told her the story of how Kurt and I got 'slushied', and about my crazy ex-girlfriend. She laughed, and I began to feel more comfortable.

She really wasn't that shy once she got to know you. She was really nice, and she shone when she smiled. There seemed to be no end to what she'd do for her friends; she'd go shopping with Mercedes if Kurt wasn't free and vice-versa, she always picked up Artie if we were going somewhere, hell she even hung out with Rachel when the latter was feeling down. And me? Well… she tried to clean slushie off me. That counts, right?

"Oh no, it's this way," she grabbed my hand as I turned down the wrong corridor. My stomach did a back flip. She didn't let go of my hand until we reached the bathroom, and I didn't let go of hers either. She didn't really notice until we stopped outside the bathroom door, at which point she looked slightly horrified with herself. I gave her hand a squeeze and smiled. She blushed shyly and looked down, her hair falling in her face. I moved closer to her, and tucked her hair behind her ear. My heart beat went from Andante to Allegro, and then to Prestissimo when she looked up at me and moved closer to me as well.

With our faces nearly touching, I felt like I should say something. "Your hair is… blue," I tried awkwardly. _Oh well done. Your skill at moment ruining astounds even me_, my mind scolded me.

Tina laughed, then without a moment's hesitation she stood on her toes, wrapped her arms around my next and kissed me. I kissed her back, and curled my arms around her waist. She pulled away from me and laughed again. "You taste like slushie," she smiled.

I laughed back at her went in to kiss her again.

And then Kurt came through the bathroom door.

_DAMN IT, KURT!_

"Oh my god," he said, his face a hilarious mix of amusement, shock, horror and embarrassment. "Oh my god!" he said again.

"Oh your god indeed, Kurt," I said, rolling my eyes.

"_Kurt!_" Tina scolded, sounding like an annoyed sibling.

Deeming the moment sufficiently ruined, I decided to go clean myself up. "I don't owe you one anymore," I murmured to Kurt, pushing past him to get to the bathroom. My face was sticky, and my black and white t-shirt was now black white and blue.

"OH MY GOD!" I heard from outside. I couldn't tell if it was Tina or Kurt.

"SHUT UP, KURT!"

"OH MY GOD!"

"SHUT UP!"

"OH MY GOD!"

"GO AWAY!"

The next "OH MY GOD!" sounded slightly further away.

After a minute of trying, but failing, to get the blue off my shirt, I went out to meet Tina again. She was on her phone, texting with a strange expression on her face. I stood next to her, placing an arm around her shoulder.

"It's Mercedes," she said. Showing me the message, that simply read "OH MY GOD."

My phone vibrated too. It was Artie. He had at least surpassed the um… eloquence… of Kurtcedes and had written a real message. "Nice work, bro! Get yo ass back to the caf so I can man hug you."

I showed Tina, and she laughed.

"So," I said, after a minute's silence. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Of course," she smiled, and practically jumped on me to kiss me again.


	5. Falling Slowly

_Hey guys!_

_Sorry it's been a while. You know... life gets in the way._

_Anyway, I have no excuses that you haven't probably heard 1,000 times so I simply beg for your forgiveness._

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Andre Vallier and Tina Cohen-Chang are in a relationship.

_ Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, Mercedes Jones and 2 others like this._

_**Miranda Clarke**__: I thought you said you were gay. Is she a man?_

_ View 181 other comments._

"I didn't realise there were 181 ways to re-word that one sentiment. The English language is an amazing thing," I said, slightly surprised. Tina and I had been together for about a months now, but Facebook had only been alerted of this the previous night.

"Ouch," Kurt said over my shoulder. He, Tina and I were studying in the library for a while before glee club. So, naturally, we were on Facebook.

I laughed, clicking the 'remove from friends' button numerous times. "By all means continue destroying my friends, I daresay I have too many." Dumbledore quotes. Apt. I chuckled internally at my own wit.

"Gotta love Dumby," Kurt grinned, taking the seat next to me and returning to his books.

I stared at him, impressed. I was still getting used to being around people who were even vaguely interested in the same things as me. "Gotta love Dumby indeed! You are amazing."

"I know," he said, smiling, without looking up from his books.

Tina returned from the stacks of books carrying a large, old looking volume.

"_Bonjour Tina. Vous êtes à la recherche particulièrement belle aujourd'hui,_" I winked at her.

She smiled blankly and sat down next to me. "You could be ordering a salad for all I understood of that." A pout crept across her face. "Or insulting me?"

"Impossible."

"Oh, he was," Kurt said dramatically.

"Ordering a salad or insulting me?"

Kurt looked very serious. "Both."

Tina laughed. She somehow managed to glow under all those black clothes and make-up. I winked again playfully and she gave me a kiss on the cheek. The elderly librarian who was standing near us slammed a book down with a force I didn't think possible for a woman as frail looking as her. The sound resonated throughout the near silent room and everyone turned to stare at us. Tina turned bright red and buried herself in her book. We spent the next 20 minutes in silence until a bell rang and we headed off to glee club.

I walked in the door and was immediately both scolded by Dean for not coming to the extra rehearsal that they had just had and not told me about, and welcomed into the band as if I we had been apart for years. Ivan the drummer hugged me so hard I was sure something cracked. I waved to Tina and Kurt as we went to our respective families. There was kind of a rift between us due to the fact that I wasn't in glee club. Well, mostly with Tina. The glee club was so deeply, intensely, essentially important to Tina.

Tina was like that – intense. _She's actually quite over-the-top for someone who seems to be so shy_, I thought to myself. It seemed to me that she completely threw herself into everything she did or believed or felt. As her boyfriend, I was often on the receiving end of that which was cool, sometimes, and sometimes kind of scary_. _I mean, not scary but just something I couldn't reciprocate. I'm not really the hugely-emotional-express-yourself-I-have-so-many-feelings-I-just-might-burst type. Which is part of the reason there was a rift between me and the others. I felt strongly about nearly everything as well – I could ramble on for days quite passionately about issues such as breakfast cereal and whether or not beardy piano guy was a pedo – but I kept it in most of the time if it's not hilarious or fuzzy or stupid, which often made people think I was cold and shallow. _And I suppose I am._ But I digress.

Mr. Schue and Tina were gesturing to me expectantly. I must have been on the though train for a while. I stood up and walked over to them, taking Puck's guitar with me. I had promised to help Tina with her ballad. I sat down next to her, and she assumed emotional songstress position.

I played the simple chords and began so sing the somehow amazingly beautiful three note melody.

_I don't know you, but I want you all the more for that._

We were playing _Falling Slowly_ by the Swell Season. Artie had been giving me guitar lessons so Tina had somehow found a ballad that we could both sing that featured the four chords I knew. Tina was great like that.

_Words fall through me, and always fool me, and I can't react_

Tina came in with a harmony in that line and it struck me once again how sweet her voice is. She achieved the perfect balance between looking at me enough to be convincing and looking at the audience enough to be performing. It was pretty cool. I was afraid of getting the chords wrong so I kind of sung into the guitar that felt so strange in my hands. I kind of wanted my trumpet back.

_Games that never amount to more than they're meant,_

_Will play themselves out._

My strumming was clumsy and I cringed at it. I never played anything of this poor quality in front of people on the trumpet. Tina was getting into it though, and Mr. Schue was nodding encouragingly. Rachel was tearing up. _Someone should place a ban on ballads around her, effective immediately. Or at least introduce her to better quality music so that she doesn't get so worked up over everything with less than 100 bpm and a vaguely pleasant melody_. I mentally planned some CDs to burn for her.

_Take this sinking boat and point it home,_

_We've still got time_

_Raise your hopeful voice,_

_You have a choice._

_You'll make it now._

I stumbled over the chords on the way to the next verse, but mine and Tina's voices found the notes with no problems.

_Falling slowly, eyes that know me__  
__And I can't go back__  
__Moods that take me and erase me__  
__And I'm painted black__  
__You have suffered enough__  
__And warred with yourself__  
__It's time that you won__  
_

Kurt caught my eye during the last three lines and began to tear up as well. _The ballad ban applies to him too._ Kurt had been having a rough few weeks, however. And Mr. Whoever-Wrote-This-Song-Dude-From-The-Swell-Season-Whose-Name-Escapes-Me was right; it was time that Kurt won. It was time that all my friends won actually. Mercedes, Artie and Tina (_and Rachel? Are we friends? I still don't know_). Damn Tina and her choice of song with relevant to real life lyrics.

_Falling slowly, sing your melody._

_I'll sing it loud._

We ended the song and the glee club clapped politely, with two audible cheers of "damn!" from Artie and Mercedes, and two audible sniffs from Rachel and Kurt.

"That was very nice, Tina," Mr. Shue said, patting her on the back. He then added sternly: "But you were supposed to sing with Mike."

Mike and I exchanged sheepish looks.

"Andre's not even in the glee club," Mr. Schue further added, giving me a bitter sidelong glance.

"M-mike didn't want to sing," Tina explained quickly, becoming flustered. "So I thought I'd sing with my b-boyfriend." She smiled at me.

"It's true," Mike said. "I offered to dance a ballad… but we thought that would be even further away from the assignment than singing with someone else."

"Well, if your boyfriend would like to join the glee club you two could do this more often," Mr. Shue said to Tina. He looked hopefully at me and Tina smiled at me too, also hopeful. I looked between the two of them. It was like a tennis game of pressure. I wasn't going to give in. I hate tennis anyway. Unless Nadal's playing… I have a huge man-crush on him.

"No thanks," I said somewhat less-than-politely. "Not really my thing..." I went and sat back with the jazz band as if to emphasise this. Tina looked hurt but said nothing. With no further ballads to be performed, the usual insanity of New Directions ensued. Brittany forgot Mr. Schue's name. Santana and Kurt were verbally bitch-slapping each other. Mike Chang was dancing like an octopus on speed (which I thoroughly enjoyed). And Mr. Schue was trying to teach them all the true meaning of unity. Or diversity. Or something… I didn't catch it. It wasn't important anyway, and the jazz band members packed up and left well before the rest of the club finished.

* * *

The next day I had a rather unpleasant morning. I have never been a morning person. I don't even know how to walk properly until I've been awake for at least 3 hours. This made me riding my bike to school dangerous to no end, but I was on trying to be a good global citizen and do my bit for the environment, so I wasn't going to just to prevent me from breaking a few bones or… friends. So far I had sustained five injuries, and it was my third day doing this. Tina always fussed over me when I arrived sporting my newest injury, though, so I didn't really mind.

This particular morning I sort of… ran over Artie. We lived in the same area (Kurt too, but he, luckily, was spared. Grumpy morning Kurt is not something I want to see… especially if he's grumpy because I ran him over) so I had just turned the corner of my street (in a rather unorthodox fashion) and there was quite the collision. It actually ended a quite badly for me because Artie's chair was considerably more sturdy than my flimsy bike, and I may or may not have done spectacular aerial gymnastics before landing not so attractively. I even managed to drop my trumpet onto my own head, which I thought was quite a feat. I maintained it wasn't entirely my fault – Artie should look left and right and… through nearby hedges before he crosses the road if he doesn't want to get hit by leafy trumpet players. I mean, really – it's common sense.

It wasn't really the best impression for Artie's mum to have on Artie's new best friend (his words not mine – my internal happy dance was quite vigorous), but apparently it was less weird than when she met Rachel.

"She actually started serenading her," Artie said, eyes wide recovering the painful memory. "And her dads joined in."

I opened my mouth to say something hilariously witty (or so I thought anyway) but a small brown cloud appeared in front of me, sporting a recorder thingy and confusing me to no end. Eventually I realised the small brown cloud was hair, and the figure sporting the recorder thingy was… well I didn't know his name. Reporter guy.

"This is Jacob Ben Israel reporting with New Kid Evaluation Edition 24. Subject – Andre Vallier," he said into the recorder, pushing Artie away and walking alongside me. He shoved the recorder into my face.

"Um, hi?" I said. "What's going on?"

"I do an evaluation of every new student after they've been at McKinley for two months – not including freshmen," he said in a business-like manner.

"That's… efficient?" I said, still unsure of what was happening.

"It certainly is. Let's begin. Why are you covered in leaves?" he asked forcefully, plucking one off my cardigan.

I arrived at my locker and opened it, trying to think of a fantastic lie. None came to me. "There was an… incident involving a hedge." Artie appeared next to me again and snorted loudly.

He nodded hurriedly, plucking another offending twig from the collar of my shirt.

"Do you have any comment to make on your relationship with Glee Club member and long time loser Tina Cohen-Chang?"

"Tina's not a loser," I dismissed. "And I have no comment. Tina's awesome."

"That's a comment."

"Shut up."

"How rude," he scolded. "Is it true that your status as the only European guy in school gives you lots of play with the ladies?"

"No?" I said, bemused.

Artie snorted again. "You wish."

"No I don't!"

"According to my blog, your popularity ratings are through the roof despite you being in both jazz and brass bands and friends with the least popular kids in school, notably Artie Abrams and Kurt Hummel. What do you attribute this to?"

"Dude, I have like… 4 friends. Maybe you should do some research before you –"

"Are you concerned about Tina's previous interest in fellow Glee Club member and your current partner in crime Artie Abrams?"

_Say what? _I shut my locker a lot more loudly than I had indented to. "Um. What?"

"Their sexual tension ratings were off the charts all through freshman year and up til you came."

Artie pretended to be extremely interested in his shoes.

"Good to know," I said as calmly and dismissively as possible. _This isn't concerning_, I told myself. _Artie is my best friend and Tina's awesome._

"The words of a broken man," Jacob said dramatically, and continued without stopping for breath. "You crushed expectations school wide when you ditched your jock roots to be a full time band geek. Is it true that–"

"OK, that's enough of that," Artie rammed Jacob and he fell quite ungraciously across the hall.

There was a silent moment, which was a rarity. Artie and I usually went on like an old married couple (a comparison Mercedes kindly pointed out nearly every day).

"So, um," I began awkwardly.

"Nothing happened or is happening," Artie said quickly.

"Ok," I said, somewhat more awkwardly. _Am I cool with this? _I asked myself. _Eh. I'll just pretend I am._ "No problems man." I winked at him.

He smiled back vaguely and another awkward silence ensued.

A distraction came in the form of Tina.

"What happened to you?" Tina asked, hugging me. A stray part of hedge had somehow stuck to one of her gloves and she pulled it off daintily.

"Long story," I laughed. Artie mumbled a vague excuse and left the two of us alone.

"I've got time," Tina smiled, wrapping her arms around me again.

I chuckled and returned the hug like a lonely bear. "Ok, well–"

The bell rang.

"Maybe I don't have time," Tina giggled, gave me a quick kiss then ran away.

I grinned after her like a fool for a long moment then skipped off to class, trying to ignore something sinking in my stomach.

* * *

"Tina's awesome," I said, grinning like a fool again as I walked Artie to class a week later, having dutifully forced myself to forget about anything vaguely unpleasant concerning him and Tina. Artie mumbled something in response, his nose in his chemistry book. I took this as an indication to continue. I mean, who doesn't want to hear about how awesome Tina is? "She's really awesome."

"You've said," Artie laughed. "More times than I can count."

"But she's so awesome," I said again, stopping briefly to high five Mike Chang (he was my physics buddy).

"Who's awesome?" he asked over his shoulder as he kept walking.

"Tina!" I called.

I could practically hear him roll his eyes.

I continued rolling Artie until he got to his class, and then caught up with Kurt in French.

"You know who's awesome?" I nudged him in the ribs, beaming.

"If it's not me I don't care," he said, not looking up.

I found this hilarious, but then forgot who I was talking about. Then I remembered. Tina. Yay!

I had a date with her that night. We were going to Breadsticks which I had heard was the best place to eat in Lima. The waitress pronounced all the French items on the menu wrong, but I said nothing because I'm a super fucking awesome nice guy. Also I'm modest.

It was the first date Tina and I had been on in a while. Artie had just found his old Super Nintendo and it was absolutely necessary for me to be at his house most days playing Yoshi's Island. Also, I kept having to go to extra brass band rehearsals because, due to how incredibly uncoordinated I was, I kept missing steps and screwing up formations.

Also, I may have given the tuba player concussion, which Sue Sylvester frowned upon apparently.

Whatever.

"I need to find something to wear for my cousin's wedding next week," Tina said as we walked out of the restaurant. I had offered to walk her home, even though it meant at least an hour extra on my way home. I needed the exercise anyway; all this sitting around playing music rather than running laps and doing push ups all day wasn't good for me. My arms were getting smaller and my waistline was getting... not smaller. Not by much, but when you wear jeans as skinny as I did you notice even the smallest changes. "My mum said I can't wear any black so I've got nothing."

"Yah?" I said, unsure as to what her point was.

"Can you come to the mall with me after school tomorrow?"

I grimaced apologetically. "Sorry, _ma chère_, but I've got brass band. Coach Sylvester wants me to re-arrange the music because for whatever reason she thinks a different key and reharmonisation will make her Cherrios look better. I personally wouldn't touch an arrangement by David Grusin but, well, I suppose I do have to touch it now. Still, it's the Mission Impossible theme so I'm not complaining. It's in 5/4 time, you know? I love 5/4. The Cheerios don't, though. I don't think they can count that far. They're just lucky it isn't in 7/8. I don't even think most of the band can count that far. Especially the tuba player since… well… he's not that good at counting at the moment."

"So… that's a no?"

"I'm sorry."

"How about Saturday?"

"Can't. Dean and Ivan – you know the drummer dude – and I just started a jazz trio and we're playing at the Lima Bean. Wanna come?"

"Maybe…" Tina sounded a bit irritated. "Do you have any other free time?"

Her tone made me nervous. "Not for the next week or so…"

"Don't worry about it," she snapped. "I'll just take Kurt. He wanted to come in the first place anyway."

"Ok," I said, wondering why she was so annoyed. I mean, I knew why she was annoyed but the reason seemed disproportionate with the level of annoyance she was emitting.

She let go of my hand to brush some hair out of her face, then didn't take it up again.

"I'm sorry," I said. I supposed this was follow-on annoyance from Sunday, when I blew her off to have a Halo tournament with Artie. _Yeah… that's probably it._

"No problem," she said emptily.

The sun was still setting as we walked through the park in the middle of Lima and we turned off the path in the shortcut to her house and walked along the grass. The sun was in my eyes so I stared at the ground. The grass waved in the wind and really shone because of the angle the sun was at. I was transfixed by it, seeing shades of red in the shadows cast by the taller stalks of grass. It was so bright and real and – gone. I'd walked into the shade of a line of trees at the edge of the park and the grass was dark and green and bland again. I looked back to where it had been, but the shine wasn't there anymore.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Tina said, giving me a hug and a quick kiss goodbye as I reached her house.

I walked the same way back through the park, but the sun had sunk further into the sky so nothing seemed as picturesque. Disappointing. After half an hour of weaving my way through streets I still didn't quite know, I reached the corner where mine and Artie's street met Kurt's. It was awesome having two of your best friends living so close to you and–

"Andre!" came a voice around the corner.

Speak (think?) of the devil, it was Kurt. A tall lamp post illuminated the wall against which he was casually leaning. It looked like a scene from a movie. But then he started waving something vigorously at me.

"What brings you here on this fine evening?" I asked, tipping an imaginary hat to him and adjusting an imaginary monocle.

"You're an idiot," he laughed.

"I know. I'm the best kind of idiot," I said proudly, stroking an imaginary moustache for effect.

He sighed exasperatedly, not even bothering to pursue that topic further. "You left your phone in my bag today."

"And you waited here all night to give it to me? How chivalrous!"

His blue eyes were illuminated by the lamplight. He rolled them and sighed at me again. "You know what I'm going to say."

"That I'm an idiot?"

"Yes isn't agreement enough to that."

I cackled. He looked at me impatiently. I winked at him. "Thanks a lot man."

"There's a message from Tina there," he said, dismissing my thanks with a wave of his hand. "I didn't read it. She messaged me before though… seemed annoyed. Are you guys Ok?"

I read the message.

_I'm sorry. I understand you're busy. see you tomorrow. xo_

I got smacked in the face by relief. Tina's so awesome. "Yup we're fine," I grinned.

"Cool," Kurt smiled in relief.

I hugged Kurt goodbye.

"Please take this hug as a token of my gratitude, good sir knight."

"Sometime I don't know why I bother with you."

I cackled again and skipped home.

* * *

_Hoping you approve. Shit's about to get real._

_Please leave a review! Or not, as long as you enjoyed it =3_


	6. Game Night

_Evening lovelies! I really have nothing to say here. *insert generic A/N as you please*_

_Thanks for reading and reviewing. I APPRECIATE YOU. (you matter.)_

* * *

"FRENCHY!" Sue yelled at me through her megaphone.

I sat up straight with a jolt. "Yes, Coach?" I slurred sleepily.

Within the first week of brass band Sue had taken to calling me 'Frenchy'. It caught on with the rest of the brass band. I changed my facebook picture to Frenchy from Grease as a tribute, but Rachel kept trying to talk to me about how great a Sandy she'd make, and how she'd appreciate it if I practised Frenchy/Sandy scenes with her sometime (apparently she owns a large pink wig that would be _just perfect_) so I changed it back to my new favourite picture of Artie and I on my roof. Don't even ask how we got up there. Or back down again…

Anyway, Sue's voice had dropped to her low mess-with-me-and-die tone and I cursed myself for dozing off yet again. "If you fall asleep in a pre-performance warm up again, I will get that German octopus to predict the exact time of your death and tattoo said date in hieroglyphics on my elderly neighbour's guide dog. Then I will kill the octopus and blame it on you."

I nodded seriously and called out over the noise around me. "Won't happen again, Coach!"

"What was that?" she asked mockingly. "I'm sorry; I don't speak lazy-teenage-mouth-breathing French!" I cocked my head in confusion. She stormed off to the Cheerios who were on the other side of the football field.

It was game night. Brass band and the Cheerios were unveiling the Mission: Impossible number at halftime. Also, apparently there's a football game on. Pfft.

It was cold and drizzling, which Finn seemed really excited about for some reason. He kept pointing it out to Quinn and oh - she just hit him. Ouch.

"You pumped?" Mike Chang floated over from hanging with the football guys to where I was with the brass band. The game was starting pretty soon, and they were all doing embarrassing kinds of warm ups – Finn appeared to be 'shaking it like a Polaroid picture' as the kids say nowadays, his arms, legs and hips wobbling in a manner I previously thought to not be humanly possible. Azimio hit him in the head for it. Shame, really. It was quite entertaining. Puck was jogging up and down with his knees high, his aim seeming to be to knee himself in the nose if possible. And Mike Chang was circling laps around where I was standing like some kind of adorable puppy creature.

"Do all sports guys do those weird warm ups?" I asked him, worriedly. As a former 'sports guy', I was concerned that I too once looked that ridiculous.

"What weird warm ups?" Mike asked, hopping around me still, as if he were auditioning for the fabled Ministry of Silly Walks.

"Oh god you don't even know you're doing it," I said, panicked. "THAT MEANS I DID IT TOO." I shook my trumpet in the air dramatically.

Mike's hopping slowed briefly and he looked quite confused. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, before cartwheeling around the obscenely large tuba case next to me. "So… I'm gonna go. Can't wait to hear you play!"

I grinned like a serial killer. A happy serial killer. Ok, that probably wasn't the best simile. I… grinned… bigly? "Thanks, man. Best of luck to your shiny self! You'll be awesome."

He was upside down so he kind of waved goodbye with his feet. I chuckled absent mindedly. Mike was an awesome dude.

The game started somewhat… tragically. I've never really understood football - basketball was pretty much a no brainer, you know, run, get ball, throw ball in thing, try not to fall over - but football always baffled me. Through my amazing skills of deduction I had deemed the Titans to be absolutely shit. The amount of guys in the McKinley red who were underneath piles of large blue creatures who were apparently also high school guys just may have given it away. I saw Mike take an extra large guy down, which was awesome until an even bigger guy plonked himself on top of Mike. Ouch. I really didn't know why all these football guys kept making fun of Kurt for being gay; they seemed to be getting more man-on-man action than he's ever dreamed of.

My phone buzzed. "I CAN SEE YOU. BAHAHAHAHAHA – Artie."

"STALKER," I replied maturely.

"You look like a British tomato in that uniform," Artie observed wisely.

"Drugs are bad, you know."

"THEY TELL ME TO GO TO REHAB, I SAY NO NO NO."

About 10 minutes later I got a call from Mercedes. "Get yo ass over here. We're bored."

It was hard to hear over all the noise on both sides of the phone.

"WHAT?" I yelled, to emphasise this.

"I SAID GET YOURSELF UP HERE NOW. WE'RE AT THE BACK IN THE SOUTH STANDS."

"I should probably wait 'til halftime. I'll talk to you then. Oh wait… I'm in the halftime show," I said intelligently. "Yeah, I'll come now! It's not like I'm watching the game or anything."

I made a vague excuse ("my dog locked its keys in the car") to Sue and hiked up the stands to where everyone was sitting – way at the back in some dramatic corner where the seats were sparsely filled. Rachel was pouting. I was pretty sure this was because she'd wanted to be up the front where she could scream out all her sexual frustration about Finn with the excuse of "THIS IS SUCH AN EXCITING GAME I SUPPORT THIS TEAM SO MUCH OH MY I MAY EXPLODE FROM SUPPORT". Only the game wasn't that exciting so maybe that excuse wouldn't fly.

Something kind of weird happened. Not weird, really. Just… a first. I saw Tina, and she smiled at me, and the beasts that the inexperienced would call butterflies (seriously, if they create that much of a fuss how can they be such little things? I'm thinking they're antelopes, or whales) that roam my stomach remained utterly unfazed. My heart wasn't trying to leap out of my mouth either. It was a bit disconcerting, but I dismissed it. _Tina and I've been together for long enough for my ridiculous puppy love to have run its course, haven't we? I still care about her. This is normal._

"Ciao!" I beamed at all of them, taking off my brass band hat and plonking it firmly on Artie's head.

"How do I look?" he asked everyone, pouting and tilting the hat at a jaunty angle.

"That hat is a sin against nature," Kurt scowled.

"Suits Artie though," I chuckled. "He's pretty fly for a white guy."

Mercedes gave me an exasperated look. "Honey, you are too white to say that."

"What? I'm European," I insisted, putting on a Pepe Le Pew French accent. "I am… how you say… exotic!" I announced, performing a hair flick worthy even of Kurt.

"I've seen you dance," Mercedes giggled. "And, honey, you are as white as they come."

"Pfft," I waved my hand dismissively. Artie threw my hat in back my face.

We sat around for a while, attempting to converse over the whistles and roaring crowd. Tina didn't really say much to me, which was surprising because we hadn't really seen each other in a couple of days. Normally she'd be all over me. I shrugged internally, not really bothered. A voice in my head asked why not. I ignored it.

Artie and I were trying to get the others to participate in our discussion on whether or not the Blues Brothers is the best movie in the entire universe. Rachel certainly didn't participate – most likely because her ovaries were exploding over the sight of Finn running around all sweaty before her very eyes. At some point I let slip that my brass band name was now Frenchy. Kurt and Artie swore they would call me that from that moment on. I tried to make Kurt wear the brass band hat for revenge. He hit me. His hands were so soft it was kind of strange – like getting bitchslapped by a fluffy blanket or… a puppy. I told him this. He blanket-puppy slapped me again.

Half time was fast approaching and Artie shoved me off his lap.

During my brief tumble down the stairs I caught a glimpse of Sue having a heart attack or something similar from where-the-fuck-is-the-first-trumpet induced rage.

"You're gonna get it, boy," Mercedes laughed with deep satisfaction at my impending doom.

I began to hurtle myself down the stairs, with Artie calling "RUN FORREST, RUN!" after me.

I sat down at the back between the other trumpet dude and the tuba guy. Sue pointed at me, mouthed the word 'octopus', and stalked off to her Cheerios.

The clock ticked down the last 20 seconds. I watched Mike leap somewhat majestically over a pile of guys to receive the ball, only to be squashed at the last moment by yet another sibling/descendant/clone of Hagrid.

The siren blared across the field, and the people in the brass band were jerked to life. Books, homework, phones, iPods and even Scrabble pieces that had been occupying the band members suddenly went flying as people hastily grabbed their instruments and fussed around with the music. The footballers cleared off the field and were replaced with Cheerios.

I actually had no idea what the Cheerios were going to do with this. There had been a few rehearsals we'd had with them, but Sue wouldn't let us look at them because we'd send telepathic loser waves through our eyes at them. Or something like that.

Santana, the head cheerleader, made some generic cheerleader hype inducing comment that I didn't hear or blocked out of my mind due to disinterest. It was the cue, apparently, because the heavy 5/4 rhythm was blaring out of the snare drums and the Cheerios were clapping _in time_ (I know! I was shocked too) whilst doing some kind of low-key routine that would soon explode as the music did.

And the music did explode. What had started with just a few of the instruments playing something that vaguely resembled the theme at a tense, low volume blasted into life with the trumpets and horns. I was looking at my music, but it was very difficult to concentrate. There were very pretty girls in very short skirts being tossed very high into the air in front of my very eyes. The music took over when we got to the chorus again. It was loud and tense and majestic and aggressive and sweet and powerful all at the same time. And I was part of what made it. Big ensembles like this were a dream to play in – sometimes you just felt like you were at the movies listening to some epic soundtrack to a war or a battle or something, but actually it was just you and your friends being awesome.

It was over quickly, and the crowd was cheering from both sides. Although I saw nothing but the aerials I was sure the Cheerios' routine had been pretty fucking sweet.

The crowd became noticeably less excited when the sirens rang out again and the game resumed. I supposed that was why the Cheerios were so good - because the team they were cheering for were so shit.

I put my trumpet back in its case and moved to find Artie and co. again when Dean, the bass player of the jazz band, and Ivan, the drummer, appeared behind me. They weren't in the brass band because they neither played brass instruments nor could spare any time that wasn't devoted to jazz band or their extreme bromance. Seriously I had actually never seen them apart. They rivaled even Artie and I.

"Good work, young padawan," Dean said, flicking his hair out of his eyes. He sported possibly the most epic bowl cut ever.

"Thanks, Obi-Wan," I attempted.

"I'm Yoda now," he explained as though I should have assumed this. "Ivan's Obi-Wan, you're Luke; our young, naïve apprentice."

I pouted. "Can't I be Chewy?"

Ivan pointed the drumsticks he was for some reason always carrying at me. "You're Luke, deal with it."

"Fine," I said, swearing to organize a Star Wars marathon in the near future.

"Also, we've been asked back to the Lima Bean to perform as a trio this Saturday," Dean said, grinning proudly. "They're planning to pay us in money rather than coffee this time as well."

"Cool beans," I said, and they mumbled goodbyes and stalked off. The game was still on, with the Titans failing very badly. I looked up every time I heard 'Chang' from the commentators, but usually it was only because he'd been crushed by some other steroid-pumped youth, so I kind of gave up in paying attention.

"Having fun, are we?" came a snide voice next to me. Santana, long time bitch and Cheerio slid through the band and stood in between me and my music stand, incredibly close to me.

"I don't know what you want me to say here…" I said uncertainly. Santana and I hadn't spoken before. Well, once she'd gone off at Dean for not knowing a song she wanted to spontaneously sing and I may or may not have ripped into her… which had resulted to a glare off every time we made eye contact. Also she was mean to Tina. This prompted more glaring.

Anyway, we didn't know each other and the looks she was giving me were very furtive and significant and I wasn't sure what to make of them.

She prowled around and stood behind me, continuing to talk right in my ear in her sultry voice. "Let's just say, you're giving off huge vibes of sexual tension and it's not at your little girlfriend."

_I don't know how I didn't expect this._ "I'm sorry," I said, in cold civility, turning to face her again. "But I'm not interested."

"I wasn't taking about you and me," she sneered dismissively. "I was talking about you and-"

I cut her off. "Tina and I are going great."

She scoffed. "No you're not," she said simply. "She's been sending off rays of luscious losery lust herself."

My face contorted into skepticism and confusion. "At?"

"Mr. Cripple Pants over there."

_Why do people keep saying this…?_

I laughed scornfully, but my insides twisted. "Uh huh. Sure."

"Coach Tenaka's blind Aunt could spot it from her holiday house in Fiji."

"Totally," I deadpanned, though I was somewhat confused. "And, uh, what are your ingenious theories on who _I've_ been sending rays of sexual tension to?"

Her eyes sparkled with delight and cruelty at the same time. "You don't even want to know," she spared me and began to stalk off in the direction of the stands.

"I don't believe you!" I called out weakly, more trying to convince myself than her.

She turned back, laughed and pointed. "Just look for yourself."

Tina was sitting across Artie's chair.

_No biggie, I do that all the time._

Tina's arms were around Artie.

_I also do that all the time…_

"Oh, and Frenchy?" Santana called back, one hand on her hip, one hand gesturing emphatically. "Not that I was interested, but since you blew me off, you ain'ts never gonna get up on this."

I really wasn't concerned about that, so I didn't bother answering.

I found myself walking up the stands rather quickly and furiously. My legs were angrier than my head was. I knew I was being irrational or jealous or douche-bag-y or whatever, but I was kind of worried. I mean, stuff with me and Tina wasn't always great… she seemed kind of disappointed or annoyed with me most of the time… but I thought we really cared about each other and –

_And nothing._

_We do care about each other._

Maybe I could ask her about it. Not like in an accusing way… but in a I've-heard-things-from-a-few-people-and-what's-going-on way.

Before I registered what was happening I was standing a step below all of my friends. Tina stood above me and she wrapped me in a hello hug.

"Nice playing Andre," she smiled sweetly.

"Uh thanks," I said, not really looking at her.

She studied my face. I panicked, and tried to look as normal as possible. I didn't know how my face felt when it looked normal so I couldn't really make it up and I'm pretty sure I just ended up making worse faces.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked.

"Nope," I lied, continuing to make weird faces.

"Really? Because usually when something's wrong you just say it's not but I know that you-"

"Is there something going on between you and Artie?" I blurted out, in a harsher, more accusing tone than I had intended.

I had only just dared to look at her as I said it, and now as she stared at me with disbelief and an array of other things spilling across her face I averted her eyes. "_What?_"

"I've just heard it from like… a lot of people that there is or was something going on," I said lamely, still not looking at her. The game did something exciting at that point and the crowd became forgivingly loud. But not for long.

"Which people?" she demanded, as soon as the uproar ended, trying to meet my eye.

"Just… people."

"People you trust more than me?"

"No," I admitted truthfully. Jacob Ben Israel and Santana probably weren't the most reliable sources… I was beginning to regret brining this up. A lot.

Tina eyed me furiously. I could feel Artie, Kurt and the others' gazes on us. I stole a glance at Mercedes, who gave me a stern look. I decided not to try that again. Kurt had his hands at his mouth in shock.

Tina gathered herself up and regarded me coolly. "I should be asking you the same thing," she declared in a low voice.

"What?" I asked, utterly confused.

"Is there something going on between _you_ and Artie?"

There was an audible but quickly hushed laugh from Artie.

I could almost feel how ridiculous my expression of shock was. "Um… what?"

Even though most people around us were screaming or chattering loudly, it seemed like there was complete silence.

"You heard me," Tina hissed. "There must be something going on between you two considering the amount of time you spend together."

"We're just friends!" I put my hands up in surrender. _Does she actually think..._

"Not many guys blow off their girlfriends constantly to see someone who's just a friend," Tina said, sounding dreadfully hurt.

_Nope, she's just making a point._

Guilt panged in my stomach nonetheless.

"It's just… he's my best friend," I attempted lamely.

"And I'm your _girlfriend_," Tina fumed. "Don't I mean anything to you?"

"Of course you do! But Artie does too…"

"You've known me the same amount of time you've known him. Why is he so much more important to you?"

"He's not _more_ important to me," I defended myself. "And, we just clicked, you know?"

"Did _we_ just click?"

I hesitated. Bad move.

"I come _after_ everyone and everything else. I'm not important to you."

"It's not like that at all!" I tried again earnestly. "Please, Tina."

"Please what?" she demanded, staring at me. "You're supposed to adore me, and put me before everything else, and _want_ to see me, and want to be with me. You're supposed to be my boyfriend."

This was sounding a lot like… the end. "I… I'm sorry Tina. I'm really sorry I wasn't what you expected or," I took a breath, "deserved."

We held each other's gaze for a moment. It was sad.

"P-past tense," she said quietly. Tina only stuttered to push people away.

"What?"

She looked disappointed and sad and annoyed and hurt all at once and it killed me that I was the cause of it.

"This is it, isn't it?" she said quietly.

I shifted uncomfortably. "It doesn't have to be…" I tried.

"I th-think it should be," Tina stammered, and pushed past me down the stands. Mercedes and Tina followed dutifully, having watched the entire episode in shocked silence. Kurt looked conflicted, but stayed. I stood there kind of shocked, not really knowing what to do and Kurt appeared around me quietly in a warm hug. Artie regarded me gravely, scrunching up his face in sympathy.

The crowd was still cheering.

I wasn't.


	7. Aftermath

_**So hi guys! I know it's been a while and I am quite sorry. Congrats if you're still reading this though!**_

* * *

"I'm going to call you 'Crayon' from now on," I declared thoughtfully at Kurt, pointing a crayon at him. We were in Politics, sitting in our usual place at the back where hopefully no one would come to harass us. It was the week after Tina and my rather public falling out and I was trying to hide my glum.

He gave me a look of amused exasperation. "Um... what?"

"New nickname," I said, nodding as if it was the wisest thing I had ever said. And it sort of was. "Inspired by these crayons here," I continued dramatically. "Brittany gave them to me. She said they were sick and they had to be quarantined from her other crayons."

"_Alors_," Kurt spoke in French. We often spoke in French when we were together alone. Stopped people from eavesdropping. Kurt often repeated himself in English to be sure that he was saying _exactly_ what he wanted to say, which kind of defeated the purpose. Ever the perfectionist my Kurt was. "Why am I Crayon?"

"Because you're awesome and colourful and awesome," I listed childishly, while absent mindedly colouring in the faces in my textbook. Purple really wasn't Boris Yeltsin's colour… "Also Crayon sounds like Kurt." I looked up gave Kurt a toothy grin.

He sighed and regarded me seriously. "You don't have to do this," he urged. "You can hurt, you know."

I was taken aback by this. And also by how unimpressed he was with his new nickname. _My next ingenious nicknaming will go to Mike or someone who'll appreciate it,_ I schemed.

Kurt held my gaze, searching for some scrap of feeling or something that we both knew I wouldn't show. I bit my lip and broke eye contact, returning to giving Hilary Clinton a blue nose.

He continued staring just as intently. "Just remember you can talk to me anytime, OK?"

I nodded, still not looking at him. "Thanks, Crayon."

He shook his head and chuckled with affection.

The bell rang and I walked out into the hall, head down, avoiding people, when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

_Emotional Rachel Berry spotted on the third floor. Be alert and meet at the auditorium in five. THIS IS A CODE RED, PEOPLE. WE COULD HAVE A FULL SCALE BROADWAY BALLAD ON OUR HANDS._

Normally, a text like this from Dean would get me all excited. There was a certain thrill that came with being in the McKinley High jazz band - you never really knew what or when or for whom you'd be playing, and having your instrument on you and your eye out for emotional looking glee club members had become a way of life. Ivan, Dean and I even staged fortnightly break-ins of the lockers of all the New Directions members - even Matt and Mike just to be safe - to steal their iPods, see what they'd been listening to and prepare ourselves for possible spontaneous performances. Sometimes we even added new songs to their iPods to get them going in the right direction (and it was getting embarrassing for everyone involved that Finn only had 4 songs on his iPod - all by ACDC. We were more than slightly suspicious he didn't know how to work it.)

We'd never been caught out not knowing a song or failing to be there when someone wanted to get their sing on in the auditorium or the choir room or the cafeteria or the football pitch or anywhere else. Puck and a small orchestra singing "Music of the Night" in the girls' bathroom was definitely a highlight.

Artie however would protest that we had in fact been caught out one time.

And in response a jazz band member would probably punch him in the face.

Because it totally doesn't count if you rick roll us.

Anyway, this time we ended up playing some sad Streisand song for Rachel and I was beside myself with boredom and apathy even though I usually quite enjoyed Rachel's singing.

Nothing was right anymore.

I'd come to this school with hopes of doing what I love and just being me - not having to please anyone or live up to expectations or pretend or lie. I was supposed to be happy.

But who knew being yourself would be so fucking hard. As a reminder of this I got shoved into my locker today by some guy I didn't even recognise, and then had to walk past Tina who became visibly upset at the sight of me.

Well, fuck.

At least when I was pretending to be a brainless, generic athletic dude the only person who was miserable was me. I mean I was pretty sure I'd treated Tina to possibly the worst first boyfriend experience ever. On top of that I'd just found out that Artie had liked her since forever so I'd been stomping all over his heart since I got here. And my poor Kurt was worse off because of me too. He'd gotten so much shit after that stupid time I'd stupidly tried to use him to break up with that stupid girl from my old school in an extremely public place. And Mercedes? Well... I hadn't done anything to her yet but I knew I'd do something stupid and screw shit up for her given the chance.

And that's how I found myself sitting under a desk in an empty classroom, wondering how I could find some way to make a perimetre around myself so that no one would have to deal with the absolute shitstorm that is me.

I sat there the whole afternoon - missing both brass band and glee club rehearsal with the jazz band. Music wasn't making me happy any more so I didn't bother. Seeing my friends brought on way too much guilt so I didn't bother.

The time ticked on and slowly the light behind the drawn curtains of the empty classroom began to fade. I hugged my knees to my chest, not really knowing how or when or whether to go.

After another while the light had faded completely - I'd been here a fucking long time. A dull murmur of chatter sounded from outside, signifying the end of some after school class or something. I tried to block out the sound to continue wallowing miserably in my swamp of guilt, but I was disturbed by the door creaking open. A pair of worn sneakers walked fluidly and somehow gracefully through the class, accompanied by a tune being hummed slightly off key.

"Mike?" I said out loud before I could stop myself.

The sneakers stopped short and pivoted to look around. "Who goes there?"

I tried to stand up but given that I was sitting under a desk this was rather unsuccessful and a dull thud accompanied a sudden pain on my head.

"Fucknuggets," I cursed, sitting back down and rubbing my head.

"Andre?" Mike laughed. "Dude what are you doing down there?" His head popped down and he beamed at me, making the dark seem lighter. Mike was like a bouncing ray of sunshine sometimes.

A reluctant grin formed on my face. "Hiding," I answered, before adding offhandedly, "Or something."

"From what?" Mike still wore wonderful huge smile, waiting for some kind of punchline because I don't think we'd ever spoken in a non-jokey way.

I didn't really do that with anyone.

It kind of made it harder to answer, but I managed, "Everything."

"Oh," Mike's smile dropped off quickly and he moved from standing doubled over with his head poking under the desk to an open sitting position on the floor, ready to listen. Everything about Mike's movements was so expressive. He cocked his head to the side questioningly.

I told him, in a series of vague mumbles, how I was miserable and had messed up with people who'd trusted me.

"Give it time," he said predictably after I'd finished.

I made an unimpressed face and mumbled something rude and ungrateful before I could stop myself.

Mike looked uncomfortable.

"See!" I urged, angry at myself, "I'm an absolute tool. You shouldn't even try with me, Mike, just go home."

Mike smiled, proving that he's a way better person than me. "I don't think you're a tool."

I scoffed.

"OK, well sometimes, yes," Mike conceded amicably, his posture relaxing again. "But I still like you."

Something sent a jolt through me at those words.

"Your friends do too. And Tina will come around."

"Are you sure?"

"Eventually, yes," he smiled, patting my knee. "Although I did hear that she told you she loved you and you said you loved cake."

"Hey!" I said defensively. "It was a That 70s Show Reference!"

Mike arched an eyebrow.

I gave in. "Yeah, OK that was quite dickish. I should apologise."

"Good start!" Mike congratulated.

I shuffled out from under the desk, and Mike pulled me up with an outsretched hand. My stomach leaped as he was quite strong and I was sort of flung across the room.

"And if you can't get out of your rut after that," Mike began shyly, "You could pick up something new? Like a club or something? Chemistry club needs new members..." Mike looked self-conscious after this, and tried to wave away the comment with his hand with a small laugh. His awkward quietness was kind of endearing.

I grinned and we left the dark room together, with me feeling more than a bit better about things.

* * *

Inspired by Mike and hopefully on some good nice genuine good whim of my own (but let's not get ahead of ourselves), I attempted to start making things right with Tina.

Based on the way she'd been acting around me and what I'd heard from Kurt, I was quite sure there wasn't much chance of us getting back together.

And I was surprisingly totally more than OK with that.

I did miss her though, but not in a longing, relationship-y way. I missed being her friend.

We used to sit together in English but Tina had taken up trying to melt into the wall when I got near her like she did before we knew each other. I'd considered forcing my way between her and the girl next to her so we could talk, but I reminded myself of my mission to be less of a dick so I found somewhere else.

Tina was extremely messy during class, using several notebooks margined with doodles and somehow managing to spread all of her possessions all over her desk and the desk next to her. I smiled because when we used to sit next to each other it was absolute chaos because I was just as bad. Either way, I knew she'd take ages to clear up so I hung back.

"Hey, T," I said awkwardly.

She looked around over her shoulder and, seeing me, turned back and busied herself in her bag again.

"I just wanted to-"

"Don't," she silenced me with a whisper.

I put my hands up in surrender. "I just want to say I'm sorry."

Not looking up from her back still, she gave a tiny nod.

I went on. "I was a jerk, and I took you for granted."

Tina stared at me, her expression softened.

"Sorry," I said again, feeling super awkward at this stage.

She shook her head. "It's ok." Her hand reached for my arm, giving it a light pat. "Thank you."

I smiled. "So we're OK?"

With a laugh that I'd definitely missed hearing, Tina swung her bag over her shoulder and began to step out of the room. "Not yet," she said. "But we'll get there."

I laughed back and hurried off to the next class.

On Wednesday afternoon, Artie and I were left to pack up jazz band.

I told him I was sorry about getting between him and Tina. He told me I was stupid, but looked slightly grateful nonetheless.

"Dude," he began emphatically, "we need a night out."

"Come again?"

Artie had his scheming face on. "You and me. We're stuck in a rut. We need a big crazy night out."

"Well, Kurt and Mercedes were going to take me shopping," I mused. "Kurt said I dress like a colour-blind kindergarten teacher from the 70s and if I wear purple and orange stripes again he may kill me..."

"Shopping doesn't count," Artie dismissed. "You need-" he paused dramatically "-a 'Dude Night'," He placed each word in the air with his hands dramatically as if it were up in bright lights on a neon sign.

"Doesn't that sound…" I searched desperately in the deepest crevices of my brain for the proper term. "Totally lame?"

"Hell no! You need a night out with yo brothas, brotha."

Artie looked very serious. And although every part of me disagreed with the idea because I currently preferred moping around my room playing sad songs than being social, I could never say no to Artie.

"Fine," I grimaced, throwing my bag onto Artie's lap huffily. "But I don't promise to feel better about anything afterwards."

"Oh, you will," Artie said somewhat evilly.

I sighed and began pushing him down the hall. "I guess now we just have to round up our 'brothas' – " I attempted imitating Artie's ghetto accent with embarrassing results.

"Never do that again," he said after we both had some time to think about what I had just done.

"Ok."

The next morning I told Kurt of our plan.

He rolled his eyes at me without the usual fondness with which he usually rolled his eyes at me. "Well, have fun with that," he snarked and turned to stalk off to Mercedes.

"So… wait. You're coming, right?" I asked, somewhat confused.

He turned back and spoke in a small voice. "I'm invited?"

"Well of course you are! It's 'Dude Night', and you're… a dude… right?" It felt odd that I had to explain it to him.

Kurt stared at me, seeming to be searching for something that would prove I was making fun of him. I continued looking bemused.

He sighed. "I just… I don't usually get invited to guy things." His voice was still small and bitter.

Sometimes my friends made me want to hug them until they didn't know what sad was anymore.

But that would take a really long time for Kurt because he was sad most of the time, so instead I patted him on the arm and told him that he'd better come because it'd be no fun without him.

"Mmm, that's true, it wouldn't be," he agreed, laughing and placing his mask of smugness firmly back on.

Oh, Kurt.

"Dude Night" came around rather quickly the following Thursday. I was sort of looking forward to it because there are only so many times you can sit alone, mope and play sad songs on Artie's old guitar. Also I was looking forward to seeing the jazz guys be awkward in a social situation - especially Leo, the keyboard player, who was possibly the most awkward person ever.

I mentally thanked Artie a thousand times for forcing me into this, even though I had some suspicions that he just wanted to get his drink on. But his heart was definitely in the right place.

Artie ended up inviting Finn and Puck who I didn't really know, but I went with it. Puck, in his element, insisted he'd 'take everything from here' when Artie asked him.

I didn't think that was a good sign. Neither did Kurt.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Artie asked as we waited for everyone to show up.

"Scary shit's gonna go down," I lamented.

"We could get arrested," suggested Kurt.

"We could be killed."

"Or worse, expelled!" Kurt's Hermione impression was oddly good.

Puck's plan had the potential to do all of those things. He had a friend who had a friend who had a friend who ran a bar on the outskirts of Lima who said they were very lax on checking IDs and wouldn't mind a bit of young blood to liven the place up.

"Oh gosh," Kurt breathed as we walked into the place, scrunching his nose in horror – presumably at the décor. It was a dingy place, with that odd smell you get in every bar. The walls were lined with pictures of cars and bands that had once played there. It was also obvious the place had a reputation for being easy to get into; the amount of other small groups of obvious high school students who were trying to look inconspicuous was almost laughable – until I remembered that I was doing the same.

Some hours and several drinks later, Puck and Artie were having a dance-off in the middle the room. Their level of intoxication meant that Artie had a distinct advantage as there were no issues with him tripping over his feet. Puck had faceplanted into a third patron and was becoming increasingly unpopular with the crowd.

Finn, Kurt and I sat at the bar watching them. Kurt sipping a fruity daiquiri, Finn knocking back beers, and me swirling a glass of red wine, doing my wine-taster's impression.

"The taste is quite sharp," I observed. "Quizzical, yet decisive."

Kurt grinned through a glare at me. "Andy you're drinking the cheapest wine on the menu."

"Price is no issue for a wine as handsome as this!"

Finn chuckled happily. "I take it you're feeling better Andre?"

"Apparently!"

We turned back to Artie and Puck's ever intensifying dance off. Kurt laughed happily as we watched them, not so subtly leaning into Finn.

"I could watch this forever," I said dreamily as Mike joined them. Puck and Artie then joined forces to out-dance Mike, with Puck standing on Artie with his arms spread like he was surfing. I couldn't quite decide who I was rooting for and before I could consider this deeply Kurt was taking my hand and leading me on to the dance floor.

"I can't dance!" I protested, pulling away from Kurt.

"Everyone can dance," Mike appeared behind me, grabbing my shoulders and forcing them to move to the beat.

I jumped at his touch then, determined to prove him right, allowed him to lead me to the middle of the floor where we did the most enthusiastic version of the nutbush anyone will ever see.

Every time I jumped faced the right side of the bar during the nutbush, I saw the progression of Puck trying to pick up a group of older women out for a ladies' night or something. First, I saw him sit down with them. A few turns later he was still there, looking like he was making some progress. The fifth time I turned around, he had an arm around one of the women, definitely getting somewhere. Halfway around the sixth turn I saw Leo, the keyboard guy from the jazz band, walking towards him.

_God no,_ I thought, wishing Leo away from Puck because Leo had an uncanny ability to-

_Cockblocked!_

Leo had somehow plonked himself in between Puck and his target, and was introducing himself with a beaming smile and handshakes all round.

The nutbush stopped and I was dizzy, considering going off to the corner of the dance floor occupied by most of the jazz guys who were in all out awkward mode, shuffling from foot to foot avoiding eye contact with each other. I was stopped on my way over to them by Kurt, who'd just been convinced by Artie to do more shots than someone his size could handle, slamming into my side.

"Hey, Cray!" I laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady him.

"Hey, Dre!" he echoed with a toothy grin.

The music was pumping loud and fast as some popular old song came on and the whole bar, middle-ages women and awkward high school guys alike, got up to dance. Kurt and I got caught in the middle and he took my hand, put another hand on my waist and leaned his head on my chest. We swirled slowly against the fast beat. I wasn't sure why we were like this, probably because Kurt seemed to be having trouble standing, but it was kind of nice.

Later, the bar closed and we were very politely kicked out. Kurt and Artie ended up crashing at my house. We spent so long setting up the couch for someone to sleep on we forgot that there were beds as well and the next morning we woke up with rather sore backs to add to our extremely sore heads.

Even worse it was a school day, and as I rode to school (after someone's alarm went off and Kurt made Artie and I cover our eyes so we couldn't see him without his hair properly done) a little more wobbly than usual, I was convinced I was still a little bit drunk.

Which is why when I saw the sign-up sheet for a new rock band at McKinley run by Sue Sylvester (with the words NO GLEE KIDS ALLOWED scribbled angrily above where you write your name), I heard Mike's voice in my ear saying, "You could pick up something new? Like a club or something?" and thought it was a totally amazing idea. After all, Mike suggested it. And Mike was really awesome…


End file.
